Like Passing Notes in Secrecy 6/13
Title: Like Passing Notes in Secrecy
Chapter: 6/13
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: He's never really missed a girl before. He never cared enough, really, to miss anyone.
Word Count: 3,560
Disclaimer: Don't own.
He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He really doesn't know at all. He packed a bag and spent money he probably doesn't have, and he's sitting in the fucking freezing cold on the curb outside her apartment building, thinking he's a fucking idiot for doing this.
It's just that there's really nowhere else he can even think he wants to be right now.
She doesn't even smile when she sees him, and that's probably proof he looks like absolute shit, which he's not really surprised about at all. She says something about it being cold, and why didn't he call, and that he should get inside. She's all concerned, and if there's something in his eye it's because everything fucking sucks right now and he thought just seeing her would make it better, but it's not working out that way. He fucking hates life. He hates everything. He hates everything that exists outside this 10 foot area where she's putting a blanket around him and pushing a cup of something warm into his hands. He doesn't want it, so he puts it on the table, but thanks her anyway.
"You're scaring me," she says quietly, and he doesn't really know when she took his hand, but she's looking down at his as she holds it between both of hers. "What...?"
"My mom."
She looks up at him and he watches her eyes, mostly because everything you need to know about Rachel can been seen in her eyes. Then she lets out a little breath and her lip starts doing something that breaks his fucking heart, which he thinks is ironic or something.
"Noah."
She starts crying before he's even explained anything to her, and he fucking loves her for that. He really does. She just...She expresses all the shit he can't make himself do, and she puts her arms around him like she actually gives a damn. He knows she does, and has for a long time. He presses his face against her neck and her hand is on the back of his head. He doesn't give a shit if she can feel the tears leaking from his eyes. He hasn't really cried since he was 11 and broke his ankle jumping fire hydrants with Finn.
He thinks you get a free pass when you find out your mom's dying.
... ... ...
They end up in her bed, because he's chilled through and she's worried about him. He won't tell her how long he waited outside, and she thinks he's an idiot for not calling her. She would have skipped class. She would have met him at the airport. She would have prepared herself so she wasn't a crying mess when he said those words. She wants to be strong for him and help him and not make him feel like he has to console her, but she can't seem to stop crying and he's barely been talking.
All she knows is his mother's health is deteriorating fast, that they found it in her pancreas and that's one of the worst things, and they haven't put a time line on anything but the oncologist told her to prepare herself.
Rachel knows what that means.
"Noah," she says after a while, when he's just on his side facing her, his hand on her hip and holding her tighter than he has to. (She's not going anywhere.) "What can I do?"
"Nothing," he mumbles. He moves his hand to swipe at his eyes, then quickly puts it back on her body. "Nothing. There's not...You're as useless as I am right now."
She knows he doesn't mean it as harshly as it sounds. She knows she's helping him in some way, or he wouldn't be holding her so close; wouldn't be letting her see him like this; wouldn't have flown from Montana to New York.
"I want to do something," she says quietly, eyes filling again. He slips his hand into her hair and kisses her softly, lets his lips linger there.
"Maybe you are."
She almost doesn't hear it. He kisses her again but doesn't do anything more, and she stops asking questions and just lets him lay there with her, because she knows him and he'll tell her if there's anything he needs.
He's just kind of scaring her right now, because as much as she loves being there for him, she can't quite wrap her head around the fact that he wasn't on the first plan back to Lima. She knows why, of course, she just thought he'd...
That he's in New York at all, or anyplace other than at his mother's bedside, tells Rachel that he's taking this a lot harder than anyone might have ever assumed he would.
... ... ...
He stays a day and a half. He'd stay longer if it didn't make him the worst son ever to stay away from home.
He doesn't want to go. Reality is there and he fucking hates reality. In a way, he always has.
They don't leave her apartment once the entire time. Hell, they hardly leave her bed. They don't do anything, but she keeps him there and lays under the blankets with him and they talk a little bit, but mostly he just touches her. It sounds stupid, but he just touches her. He tries to keep a hand on her all the time, because she's real and she's his, kind of, and she's not going anywhere. And if she is, he doesn't know about it and he doesn't have to think about it and hold his breath until she does. That's the worst part, really. He tells her he hates that part, and she takes this little gasping breath he knows means she's trying not to cry.
When they sleep, he holds her from behind, tighter than he ever has. She weaves their fingers together or puts her hand over his or something, and he probably shouldn't love it as much as he does, but he can't help it. This is why he came to her. She's just...she gets him.
"I'll come with you," she says as he drops his clothes back into his bag. She's dressed and sitting at the end of her bed, and he shakes his head.
"You have school."
"I don't care!" She's almost pouting, looking like a little girl, and it almost makes him smile. (No surprise that the first smile that threatens to break is because of her, too.) "I don't want you to go alone."
He kneels in front of her and puts his hands on her thighs, and she's crying again. "It's not like it'll help." She looks at him like he's tearing out her heart or something, and he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. "I didn't mean it like that."
He smoothes his thumb over her thigh and watches her. She's not looking at him, and she brushes her cheek and almost groans, like she's annoyed with herself for crying again or something. He knows he should have wanted to fuck her at some point, since he's a guy and she's her and they're them, but...It's not that he doesn't want her. He always wants her. It's just that...Fuck. He doesn't even know what the hell's going on right now, and sex is (maybe for the first time) one of the last things on his mind. He realizes, though, that basically every time they've been together since they (she) decided to be 'friends' they've ended up kissing. They suck as no-sex friends, and he wants to tell her that. Maybe he's deflecting or whatever the fuck she'd say, but he really wants to bring it up.
"I want to see her," she whispers.
"Rachel."
"Don't tell me I can't. Don't tell me I'm not allowed to..." She's crying really hard now, so he wraps his arms around her. "Let me come. Please, Noah."
He knows he can't stop her from doing anything. She's a grown woman and she's never let anyone stop her from making decisions before, and this is a million times better than some of the shit she's done in the past. Plus, he doesn't know what the hell he's gonna walk into when he gets home. He doesn't know, really, what state of health his mom's in, or how his sister is taking it. He's going to need someone on his side, and his aunts are fucking lunatics and he doesn't want to deal with them. Suddenly having Rachel in his corner really seems like something he might need.
He hates needing things. But if it's her he needs, he's kind of okay with it.
... ... ...
The first thing she does is let go of his hand and go up to Hannah's room. She knows he'll want time alone with his mother, and he's worried about his sister, so Rachel figures she can at least try to be helpful and do something about both.
She takes the girl to her house. Her dads are both at work and she just left her daddy a message on his voicemail telling him she was going to be home and why. She hasn't seen her fathers in a long time, and she's excited to, but she knows that's not the reason for her visit and so do they.
Hannah is laying on Rachel's bed, holding a stuffed pig in her arms. It's Rachel's and they're both probably too old to pay it any attention, but it stays on Rachel's bed when she's not there and Hannah seems to want to hold something, and Rachel isn't going to stop her from finding comfort in anything right now.
It's almost an hour before Hannah speaks. Rachel hasn't wanted to push her, so she's just been on her computer, looking up things about this type of cancer. She kind of regrets it, because...
Because.
"Is Noah okay?"
Rachel looks up from her computer and Hannah looks so sad and small on the bed that Rachel moves over and sits down next to her. She can't stop herself from combing her fingers through the girl's hair in what she hopes is a soothing way.
"I think so," Rachel says. "He's sad."
Hannah's eyes fill with tears, but she looks angry, too. Rachel has seen this look a lot in the past few days. "It's not fair," she says.
Rachel doesn't know what to say to that. Hannah's right. It's not fair. This girl isn't even 12 years old and she's about to lose her mother. (Rachel's not deluded enough to think Mrs. Puckerman will recover from this, as much as it's killing her to think about it.)
"I know, sweetie," Rachel says. Hannah lets out a little sob and closes her eyes tight, so Rachel lays down and wraps her arms around the girl. "It's not."
... ... ...
"How's Hannah?" his mom asks when she wakes up from her nap.
He's already pissed.
"How are you?" he asks, arms folded across his chest as he stands in her doorway.
She closes her eyes and sighs, shakes her head, and he knows nothing's ever going to be normal again.
He hugs her and sits next to her as she outlines what she knows and what's going to happen and he doesn't want to hear any of it, but he doesn't want to upset her by telling her to shut up 'cause he can't handle it.
"What do you need me to do?" he asks after she's done. It reminds him of how Rachel asked, and he realizes he is to his mom what Rachel is to him. It's fucked up how life works like that.
"Nothing," she says.
He knows she's lying, but he kind of likes this right now, pretending nothing's going to change even if they both know it is.
... ... ...
Her fathers come home and dish out hugs for both girls before making dinner. They ask if Noah will be joining them, and Rachel just shakes her head subtly. She's really not sure, but since he hasn't arrived yet she can assume he's not coming. That's okay. She didn't tell him as much, but she'll keep watch over Hannah for as long as he needs.
They watch shows Hannah tells them she's never allowed to watch, and Rachel smiles when her dads laugh and sit the girl between them on the couch and make her giggle and feed her ice cream and hot chocolate. They really are amazing and she's missed them. When Noah comes to pick up his sister, it's nearly 10:00 and he explains Hannah's been excused from school for tomorrow, so it's okay that she's crashed and basically passed out on the couch from her sugar high.
He scoops her up in his arms and Rachel slips on her own jacket and carries Hannah's things to the car while Noah puts Hannah in the front seat.
"Thanks," he says, taking the girl's bag and jacket from her. "For..." He sighs and leans back against his car, looks over his shoulder to see that Hannah's still asleep. "It's bad."
She bites the inside of her cheek and nods, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head at her and shivers. "Mom has this thing tomorrow and I'm going."
"I'll come watch Hannah," she says without him having to speak the words.
"No," he says, almost laughing. He looks to his feet and she takes a step closer, grabs the front of his jacket because he's right there and she wants to. "Will you come?"
"Oh." She's quiet and surprised, and she knows that if he just asked like that, he really wants her there with him. The fact that he 'let' her come to Lima at all says the same thing. He looks up at her and she realizes maybe she's taking too long to answer. "Yes. Of course. If you want me to."
He grabs her elbows and pulls her flush against him. "I asked, didn't I?" He's trying to make it sound like a joke, but she knows it's not. "Maybe it's easier if you just come stay at my place," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "Or whatever."
"Easier?" she asks. She's trying not to laugh. He'd never come right out and say he wants her in his bed (not when it's clear sex isn't on the table). "Well, if it's easier."
"Shut up," he mumbles against her hair.
... ... ...
She spends all three nights she's in Lima in his bed, so it really sucks when, a day before he has to go back to school, he has to take her to the airport. It's totally lame and he knows it, but he sleeps way better when she's there than when she's not, and he likes having her around and being around her. She spends most of her time making food and taking care of his sister and his mom, and he thinks it's crazy, how easily it comes to her. She fits in with his family and they welcome him, and he hates thinking of shit like this, but Hannah's going to need someone, someone other than just him, and knowing Rachel's good with her is definitely...well, he takes note of it.
She doesn't seem to want to let go of him, either, and he doesn't really know what to think of that, other than, you know, thinking he likes it a lot.
"I don't want to go," she admits quietly, face pressed against his neck.
"You have class."
"So do you," she pouts. He just looks at her. "Sorry." Honestly, he'd take a lifetime of school if it meant he didn't have to deal with all this other stuff. "I just wish I could stay. With you."
"Yeah."
He should probably thank her or something, or tell her to call him when she's back in New York or whatever, but really, all he wants to do is kiss her.
So he does.
It's not like they didn't kiss when they were sharing his bed. They did. They were just little kisses here and there, and no tongue, and nothing crazy. He's sick of that shit, to be honest. He needs to kiss her for real or he'll fuck everything up. They've always kissed, always, since that summer after high school, and he's not gonna stop now just because his life sucks so hard and she doesn't want to be with him or whatever. Besides, she's never stopped him from kissing her, initiated it a few times, and she did just spend three nights in his bed. He thinks he's allowed to put his tongue in her mouth and make her let out that noise that has always made his fingers dig into her skin.
All the way back to his place from the airport, he tries to come up with reasons not to want her or like her or need to be with her.
He comes up empty and when he goes to bed at night, he can smell her on his pillow and wakes up no less than three times when he tries to reach for her and she's not there.
... ... ...
She knows she'll see him in a matter of weeks when they're both in Lima for the holidays. It doesn't seem like soon enough. He texts more, and calls, and he emails her once. It's actually a forward, from his mother about her health, and Rachel knows she's the only one who knows. (He's told her he doesn't want anyone to know. "Anyone but you," he'd said, and it made her feel special, as horrible as the whole thing is). She just wants...She just wants.
She wishes they were a real couple and she could be there with him and do something to make it all better, make it all go away.
She has a little too much wine one Friday night with the girls, and ends up in her bed at 2:00 a.m. with her phone to her ear and his sleepy voice mumbling to her, asking if she's okay and what the fuck?
"I miss you," she says. She thinks she's crying, but she wipes the tears on her pillowcase and he'll never have to know.
"Yeah, baby."
"Are you awake?"
"Rach," he laughs, "how drunk are you?"
She sighs and (because she's even more dramatic than usual when she's been drinking) smoothes her hand over the side of her bed she thinks he should be laying on. "I just want to be there with you," she admits for the first time. "I hate missing you all the time." He just lets out a breath, but doesn't say anything. She hopes he hasn't gone back to sleep on her, or she'll feel like a creep when she listens to him breathing for a while. "Don't fall asleep."
"'S'late. Early. Whatever," he murmurs. "Tired. Stop crying."
"I'm not!"
How does he know?
"Rach," he chuckles. She hears sheets rustling. God, she wants to be with him. It's ridiculous now. She's not even pretending there's anyone else she wants. "I'll see you soon."
Maybe she's being a little crazy. It's really late where he is and she's sure he has classes. He's trying to study and play football and deal with his family situation all at the same time, and she's the silly girl he knows who calls him when she's drunk to tell him how much she misses him. She feels really, really stupid now.
"I know. Sorry I called so late."
"'S'okay." She yawns and he laughs a little again. "Hey. I miss you, too, or whatever."
"Do you?" she asks hopefully.
"Shut up. Go to bed."
She giggles and says goodnight and falls asleep in her jeans and sweater.
When he calls in the morning, she bitches at him for calling so early and his laughter might just be the best hangover cure she's ever had.
...Chapter 7...
Chapter: 6/13
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: He's never really missed a girl before. He never cared enough, really, to miss anyone.
Word Count: 3,560
Disclaimer: Don't own.
He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He really doesn't know at all. He packed a bag and spent money he probably doesn't have, and he's sitting in the fucking freezing cold on the curb outside her apartment building, thinking he's a fucking idiot for doing this.
It's just that there's really nowhere else he can even think he wants to be right now.
She doesn't even smile when she sees him, and that's probably proof he looks like absolute shit, which he's not really surprised about at all. She says something about it being cold, and why didn't he call, and that he should get inside. She's all concerned, and if there's something in his eye it's because everything fucking sucks right now and he thought just seeing her would make it better, but it's not working out that way. He fucking hates life. He hates everything. He hates everything that exists outside this 10 foot area where she's putting a blanket around him and pushing a cup of something warm into his hands. He doesn't want it, so he puts it on the table, but thanks her anyway.
"You're scaring me," she says quietly, and he doesn't really know when she took his hand, but she's looking down at his as she holds it between both of hers. "What...?"
"My mom."
She looks up at him and he watches her eyes, mostly because everything you need to know about Rachel can been seen in her eyes. Then she lets out a little breath and her lip starts doing something that breaks his fucking heart, which he thinks is ironic or something.
"Noah."
She starts crying before he's even explained anything to her, and he fucking loves her for that. He really does. She just...She expresses all the shit he can't make himself do, and she puts her arms around him like she actually gives a damn. He knows she does, and has for a long time. He presses his face against her neck and her hand is on the back of his head. He doesn't give a shit if she can feel the tears leaking from his eyes. He hasn't really cried since he was 11 and broke his ankle jumping fire hydrants with Finn.
He thinks you get a free pass when you find out your mom's dying.
... ... ...
They end up in her bed, because he's chilled through and she's worried about him. He won't tell her how long he waited outside, and she thinks he's an idiot for not calling her. She would have skipped class. She would have met him at the airport. She would have prepared herself so she wasn't a crying mess when he said those words. She wants to be strong for him and help him and not make him feel like he has to console her, but she can't seem to stop crying and he's barely been talking.
All she knows is his mother's health is deteriorating fast, that they found it in her pancreas and that's one of the worst things, and they haven't put a time line on anything but the oncologist told her to prepare herself.
Rachel knows what that means.
"Noah," she says after a while, when he's just on his side facing her, his hand on her hip and holding her tighter than he has to. (She's not going anywhere.) "What can I do?"
"Nothing," he mumbles. He moves his hand to swipe at his eyes, then quickly puts it back on her body. "Nothing. There's not...You're as useless as I am right now."
She knows he doesn't mean it as harshly as it sounds. She knows she's helping him in some way, or he wouldn't be holding her so close; wouldn't be letting her see him like this; wouldn't have flown from Montana to New York.
"I want to do something," she says quietly, eyes filling again. He slips his hand into her hair and kisses her softly, lets his lips linger there.
"Maybe you are."
She almost doesn't hear it. He kisses her again but doesn't do anything more, and she stops asking questions and just lets him lay there with her, because she knows him and he'll tell her if there's anything he needs.
He's just kind of scaring her right now, because as much as she loves being there for him, she can't quite wrap her head around the fact that he wasn't on the first plan back to Lima. She knows why, of course, she just thought he'd...
That he's in New York at all, or anyplace other than at his mother's bedside, tells Rachel that he's taking this a lot harder than anyone might have ever assumed he would.
... ... ...
He stays a day and a half. He'd stay longer if it didn't make him the worst son ever to stay away from home.
He doesn't want to go. Reality is there and he fucking hates reality. In a way, he always has.
They don't leave her apartment once the entire time. Hell, they hardly leave her bed. They don't do anything, but she keeps him there and lays under the blankets with him and they talk a little bit, but mostly he just touches her. It sounds stupid, but he just touches her. He tries to keep a hand on her all the time, because she's real and she's his, kind of, and she's not going anywhere. And if she is, he doesn't know about it and he doesn't have to think about it and hold his breath until she does. That's the worst part, really. He tells her he hates that part, and she takes this little gasping breath he knows means she's trying not to cry.
When they sleep, he holds her from behind, tighter than he ever has. She weaves their fingers together or puts her hand over his or something, and he probably shouldn't love it as much as he does, but he can't help it. This is why he came to her. She's just...she gets him.
"I'll come with you," she says as he drops his clothes back into his bag. She's dressed and sitting at the end of her bed, and he shakes his head.
"You have school."
"I don't care!" She's almost pouting, looking like a little girl, and it almost makes him smile. (No surprise that the first smile that threatens to break is because of her, too.) "I don't want you to go alone."
He kneels in front of her and puts his hands on her thighs, and she's crying again. "It's not like it'll help." She looks at him like he's tearing out her heart or something, and he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. "I didn't mean it like that."
He smoothes his thumb over her thigh and watches her. She's not looking at him, and she brushes her cheek and almost groans, like she's annoyed with herself for crying again or something. He knows he should have wanted to fuck her at some point, since he's a guy and she's her and they're them, but...It's not that he doesn't want her. He always wants her. It's just that...Fuck. He doesn't even know what the hell's going on right now, and sex is (maybe for the first time) one of the last things on his mind. He realizes, though, that basically every time they've been together since they (she) decided to be 'friends' they've ended up kissing. They suck as no-sex friends, and he wants to tell her that. Maybe he's deflecting or whatever the fuck she'd say, but he really wants to bring it up.
"I want to see her," she whispers.
"Rachel."
"Don't tell me I can't. Don't tell me I'm not allowed to..." She's crying really hard now, so he wraps his arms around her. "Let me come. Please, Noah."
He knows he can't stop her from doing anything. She's a grown woman and she's never let anyone stop her from making decisions before, and this is a million times better than some of the shit she's done in the past. Plus, he doesn't know what the hell he's gonna walk into when he gets home. He doesn't know, really, what state of health his mom's in, or how his sister is taking it. He's going to need someone on his side, and his aunts are fucking lunatics and he doesn't want to deal with them. Suddenly having Rachel in his corner really seems like something he might need.
He hates needing things. But if it's her he needs, he's kind of okay with it.
... ... ...
The first thing she does is let go of his hand and go up to Hannah's room. She knows he'll want time alone with his mother, and he's worried about his sister, so Rachel figures she can at least try to be helpful and do something about both.
She takes the girl to her house. Her dads are both at work and she just left her daddy a message on his voicemail telling him she was going to be home and why. She hasn't seen her fathers in a long time, and she's excited to, but she knows that's not the reason for her visit and so do they.
Hannah is laying on Rachel's bed, holding a stuffed pig in her arms. It's Rachel's and they're both probably too old to pay it any attention, but it stays on Rachel's bed when she's not there and Hannah seems to want to hold something, and Rachel isn't going to stop her from finding comfort in anything right now.
It's almost an hour before Hannah speaks. Rachel hasn't wanted to push her, so she's just been on her computer, looking up things about this type of cancer. She kind of regrets it, because...
Because.
"Is Noah okay?"
Rachel looks up from her computer and Hannah looks so sad and small on the bed that Rachel moves over and sits down next to her. She can't stop herself from combing her fingers through the girl's hair in what she hopes is a soothing way.
"I think so," Rachel says. "He's sad."
Hannah's eyes fill with tears, but she looks angry, too. Rachel has seen this look a lot in the past few days. "It's not fair," she says.
Rachel doesn't know what to say to that. Hannah's right. It's not fair. This girl isn't even 12 years old and she's about to lose her mother. (Rachel's not deluded enough to think Mrs. Puckerman will recover from this, as much as it's killing her to think about it.)
"I know, sweetie," Rachel says. Hannah lets out a little sob and closes her eyes tight, so Rachel lays down and wraps her arms around the girl. "It's not."
... ... ...
"How's Hannah?" his mom asks when she wakes up from her nap.
He's already pissed.
"How are you?" he asks, arms folded across his chest as he stands in her doorway.
She closes her eyes and sighs, shakes her head, and he knows nothing's ever going to be normal again.
He hugs her and sits next to her as she outlines what she knows and what's going to happen and he doesn't want to hear any of it, but he doesn't want to upset her by telling her to shut up 'cause he can't handle it.
"What do you need me to do?" he asks after she's done. It reminds him of how Rachel asked, and he realizes he is to his mom what Rachel is to him. It's fucked up how life works like that.
"Nothing," she says.
He knows she's lying, but he kind of likes this right now, pretending nothing's going to change even if they both know it is.
... ... ...
Her fathers come home and dish out hugs for both girls before making dinner. They ask if Noah will be joining them, and Rachel just shakes her head subtly. She's really not sure, but since he hasn't arrived yet she can assume he's not coming. That's okay. She didn't tell him as much, but she'll keep watch over Hannah for as long as he needs.
They watch shows Hannah tells them she's never allowed to watch, and Rachel smiles when her dads laugh and sit the girl between them on the couch and make her giggle and feed her ice cream and hot chocolate. They really are amazing and she's missed them. When Noah comes to pick up his sister, it's nearly 10:00 and he explains Hannah's been excused from school for tomorrow, so it's okay that she's crashed and basically passed out on the couch from her sugar high.
He scoops her up in his arms and Rachel slips on her own jacket and carries Hannah's things to the car while Noah puts Hannah in the front seat.
"Thanks," he says, taking the girl's bag and jacket from her. "For..." He sighs and leans back against his car, looks over his shoulder to see that Hannah's still asleep. "It's bad."
She bites the inside of her cheek and nods, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head at her and shivers. "Mom has this thing tomorrow and I'm going."
"I'll come watch Hannah," she says without him having to speak the words.
"No," he says, almost laughing. He looks to his feet and she takes a step closer, grabs the front of his jacket because he's right there and she wants to. "Will you come?"
"Oh." She's quiet and surprised, and she knows that if he just asked like that, he really wants her there with him. The fact that he 'let' her come to Lima at all says the same thing. He looks up at her and she realizes maybe she's taking too long to answer. "Yes. Of course. If you want me to."
He grabs her elbows and pulls her flush against him. "I asked, didn't I?" He's trying to make it sound like a joke, but she knows it's not. "Maybe it's easier if you just come stay at my place," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "Or whatever."
"Easier?" she asks. She's trying not to laugh. He'd never come right out and say he wants her in his bed (not when it's clear sex isn't on the table). "Well, if it's easier."
"Shut up," he mumbles against her hair.
... ... ...
She spends all three nights she's in Lima in his bed, so it really sucks when, a day before he has to go back to school, he has to take her to the airport. It's totally lame and he knows it, but he sleeps way better when she's there than when she's not, and he likes having her around and being around her. She spends most of her time making food and taking care of his sister and his mom, and he thinks it's crazy, how easily it comes to her. She fits in with his family and they welcome him, and he hates thinking of shit like this, but Hannah's going to need someone, someone other than just him, and knowing Rachel's good with her is definitely...well, he takes note of it.
She doesn't seem to want to let go of him, either, and he doesn't really know what to think of that, other than, you know, thinking he likes it a lot.
"I don't want to go," she admits quietly, face pressed against his neck.
"You have class."
"So do you," she pouts. He just looks at her. "Sorry." Honestly, he'd take a lifetime of school if it meant he didn't have to deal with all this other stuff. "I just wish I could stay. With you."
"Yeah."
He should probably thank her or something, or tell her to call him when she's back in New York or whatever, but really, all he wants to do is kiss her.
So he does.
It's not like they didn't kiss when they were sharing his bed. They did. They were just little kisses here and there, and no tongue, and nothing crazy. He's sick of that shit, to be honest. He needs to kiss her for real or he'll fuck everything up. They've always kissed, always, since that summer after high school, and he's not gonna stop now just because his life sucks so hard and she doesn't want to be with him or whatever. Besides, she's never stopped him from kissing her, initiated it a few times, and she did just spend three nights in his bed. He thinks he's allowed to put his tongue in her mouth and make her let out that noise that has always made his fingers dig into her skin.
All the way back to his place from the airport, he tries to come up with reasons not to want her or like her or need to be with her.
He comes up empty and when he goes to bed at night, he can smell her on his pillow and wakes up no less than three times when he tries to reach for her and she's not there.
... ... ...
She knows she'll see him in a matter of weeks when they're both in Lima for the holidays. It doesn't seem like soon enough. He texts more, and calls, and he emails her once. It's actually a forward, from his mother about her health, and Rachel knows she's the only one who knows. (He's told her he doesn't want anyone to know. "Anyone but you," he'd said, and it made her feel special, as horrible as the whole thing is). She just wants...She just wants.
She wishes they were a real couple and she could be there with him and do something to make it all better, make it all go away.
She has a little too much wine one Friday night with the girls, and ends up in her bed at 2:00 a.m. with her phone to her ear and his sleepy voice mumbling to her, asking if she's okay and what the fuck?
"I miss you," she says. She thinks she's crying, but she wipes the tears on her pillowcase and he'll never have to know.
"Yeah, baby."
"Are you awake?"
"Rach," he laughs, "how drunk are you?"
She sighs and (because she's even more dramatic than usual when she's been drinking) smoothes her hand over the side of her bed she thinks he should be laying on. "I just want to be there with you," she admits for the first time. "I hate missing you all the time." He just lets out a breath, but doesn't say anything. She hopes he hasn't gone back to sleep on her, or she'll feel like a creep when she listens to him breathing for a while. "Don't fall asleep."
"'S'late. Early. Whatever," he murmurs. "Tired. Stop crying."
"I'm not!"
How does he know?
"Rach," he chuckles. She hears sheets rustling. God, she wants to be with him. It's ridiculous now. She's not even pretending there's anyone else she wants. "I'll see you soon."
Maybe she's being a little crazy. It's really late where he is and she's sure he has classes. He's trying to study and play football and deal with his family situation all at the same time, and she's the silly girl he knows who calls him when she's drunk to tell him how much she misses him. She feels really, really stupid now.
"I know. Sorry I called so late."
"'S'okay." She yawns and he laughs a little again. "Hey. I miss you, too, or whatever."
"Do you?" she asks hopefully.
"Shut up. Go to bed."
She giggles and says goodnight and falls asleep in her jeans and sweater.
When he calls in the morning, she bitches at him for calling so early and his laughter might just be the best hangover cure she's ever had.
...Chapter 7...