WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 8/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5902
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language
Dr. Jackson's office was small but efficiently furnished so as to provide enough space. A desk and two filing cabinets were tucked away along the back wall, with the doctor's diploma hanging above the desk, displayed where it was clearly visible without deliberately attracting attention. The rest of the room was given over to a large couch, an armchair for the psychologist and a bookshelf stacked with thick textbooks and journals.
The room was professional, with welcoming elements such a medium-sized potted fern in the corner by the door. Will had felt a familiarity with the office upon his first visit, recognizing aspects of the tidy layout from his ex-wife's flighty interest in feng shui, but with his purpose for being there he had never managed to feel comfortable.
“You've been quoted as saying that you've dealt with crushes before, but you don't believe Finn's feelings for you should be classified as a crush,” Dr. Jackson commented, his attention directed at the open file in his lap.
“That's correct,” Will replied, running a finger across the fabric of his jeans and, as usual, refusing the offer to lie down on the couch in favor of sitting upright upon it.
“How exactly would you recognize a student with a crush?” The psychologist probed.
“There are signs,” He replied sagely. “Most teachers come to recognize them and anticipate a student's approach before it occurs.”
“Did Finn present any signs of attraction to you prior to his admission of his feelings?”
“Finn was different,” Will responded calmly. “Usually a student with a crush would approach me for the first time once the spark of attraction grew, but he and I were already close because of Glee. He trusted me, he'd often ask me for advice or turn to me for support.”
“So how did his profession of his feelings differ from those of other students with an interest in you?”
“In terms of content, not all that much. He's not what you could call articulate,” Will remarked fondly. “But he's honest, completely and truly genuine. When he told me how he felt, he had a maturity that no student before him had ever achieved.”
“You mention his maturity but he is still only sixteen,” The doctor remarked. “I don't know him personally, so I can't be one to judge, but I don't know many teenagers with the emotional capacity to comprehend the mechanics of a mature relationship.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Will questioned, bristling at the other man's cynical words.
“I'm making no assumptions,” Dr. Jackson prefaced defensively. “I respect your assurance that you love Finn. I simply have my doubts that he comprehends the notion of love enough to not be confusing it with an assortment of other emotions.”
“He's not,” Will insisted unmoving.
“You worked in an environment with teenagers for a number of years, so you must recognize that they're a collective mass of hormonal energy. I'm simply asking you to consider your relationship from an outsider's perspective,” The psychologist appealed.
“So you're assuming, entirely by age, that Finn can't be in love with me. He's just some dumb kid looking to get laid,” He summarized harshly.
“No assumptions!” The doctor repeated with a squeak, the fingers of one hand tangling nervously in the hairs of his skunk patch, “I just- Just consider it, please.”
Will's irritation subsided slowly and he firmly told himself that there was no basis to the psychologist's wrongful interpretation, but the fact that he had to convince himself at all was evidence of some small doubt in his own belief.
*
“Will, I'm bisexual.”
Pausing with the phone pressed to his ear and a carton of milk in his other hand, Will watched the refrigerator door swing closed. The muffled slam spurred him back into action, “I'm aware of that, Finn,” He remarked blandly, setting the milk down on the counter and tucking the phone against his ear with his shoulder so he could use both hands to open the carton.
“I know, it's just- I'm trying to practice for when I tell Mom and I don't know who else to rehearse with,” Finn explained. “Seriously, points out of ten, how did I do?”
Will took a moment to consider his response as he poured milk onto his cereal. Replacing the carton in the fridge, he returned the phone to his hand and asked the first question that presented itself, “Why are you telling your mom? I'm pretty sure she's already aware of the situation.”
“Yeah, aware,” Finn repeated with a snort. “I got a leaflet from Ms. Pillsbury with step-by-step tips on coming out and surprisingly, 'Phone call from the police to inform that you're being held in custody for illegally dating your Spanish teacher' didn't make it into the top ten.”
“I'll admit that how your mom found out wasn't exactly...” Will frowned as he sought an appropriate word, “the most graceful way she could have been informed but the point stands that she does know now.”
“I know,” Finn agreed. “I just think she deserves a proper coming out. What with the ambushing you at your apartment and the argument over whether or not you'd raped me, we didn't exactly get round to the hugging and acceptance. So this'll be like a do-over, a chance to get it right.”
“You're sounding a little optimistic about this,” Will cautioned.
“What do you mean?” Finn asked defensively.
“I'm just concerned that you might seem a little blasé,” He replied.
“It's okay, I've got this,” Finn insisted. “I'm a Kinsey 3. I'm comfortable with that and I can relay that information with confidence.” From the tone of his voice it was clear he was quoting advice from the leaflet.
Will's doubt from his earlier conversation with Dr. Jackson prompted him to challenge his lover's assurance, “Kinsey 3. Are you sure?”
“I read the Kinsey leaflet,” Finn replied indignantly. “Both sexes, that's a 3.” A small pause and then he spoke again, “Okay, so maybe I'm closer to 2... 2.5?” He suggested gently.
“You see my point?” Will challenged, “You shouldn't rush this, you have to be sure before you-”
“I am sure,” Finn snapped. “Okay, so maybe I'm not being precise right now but I've got the basics down. Boobs are awesome but I love you, so I'm in the middle somewhere.”
“You're oversimplifying things,” Will admonished.
“What's up with you?” Finn demanded sharply, “Everything I say you're shooting me down. Newsflash: you aren't my teacher anymore, Will.”
The blow struck low. Will's stomach coiled and his fingers tightened on the phone reflexively, “Perhaps not,” He admitted, attempting to breathe out his tension. “But I thought I was someone whose opinion you respected.”
“No, hey, I-” Finn spluttered for a few seconds as he sought out his apology, “Sorry, I'm- That was a stupid thing to say.”
“It's fine,” Will dismissed, but the tension didn't entirely leave.
“It's just, I feel like something's up with you,” Finn persisted. “What's the deal?”
“Just something Dr. Jackson said today.”
“Oh?” Finn sounded intrigued.
They'd often discussed details of their therapy sessions for shared amusement but Will suspected that his confession wouldn't be met with the same good humor, “He believes you might be too immature to understand the concept of love.”
“O-kay,” Finn stretched the word out as he considered Will's words. “I'm waiting for the punchline.”
Will picked up his spoon and idly stirred the soggy Rice Puffs, the logical part of his brain screaming at him to not vocalize his thoughts but total honesty won out, “I'm worried he might be right.”
The other end of the line wasn't silent, there were heavy breaths and the shuffle of fingers getting a better grip on the handset to keep Will company as he tensely awaited Finn's reply.
“Could you run that by me again?” Finn requested monotonously.
Will licked his dry lips before complying, “Dr. Jackson believes you may have entered into a relationship with me without fully comprehending the finer details and emotions it would entail. I-” He choked as his mind begged him not to dig the hole any deeper, “I think he might be... not entirely mistaken.”
There was another tense pause, broken by a heated growl and a loud impact, from which Will rightly deduced that Finn had punched the wall in his anger, “So all the times I told you I loved you, that just means nothing now?” Finn demanded, beneath his surface rage a deep pain flourished, “All because some head-doctor told you so.”
“You're only sixteen, Finn. How can you-”
“I'm sorry,” He interrupted Will's rationalization fiercely. “I didn't know love came with an age limit. Should I apply for a provisional license?”
“Finn, you're being-”
“I'm being?” Finn repeated incredulously, a maniacal edge creeping into his tone, “You're being!” He spat the words like an insult, “I'm surrounded by adults telling me that I'm just some dumb kid who got manipulated by the big, bad man. The last person I expected to hear that from was you, Will. I thought you would know the truth... now, now I don't know what to think.” His words became high and thin as his breakdown into tears raced towards him.
“Finn, please just-” Will desperately tried to make him listen.
“Bye Will,” Finn forced out and hastily hung up, leaving Will with nothing but the dial tone.
“Finn,” Will called into the dead phone. “Finn, please!” Letting the phone drop to his lap, he pushed the bowl of cereal aside and slumped over the counter dejectedly with his head buried in his arms. “Oh God!” He breathed out rapidly, close to hyperventilating as total despair consumed him. “That could have gone better,” He remarked, breaking into hysterical laughter as the first tears sprung forth from the corners of his eyes.
*
Finn shut himself away in his room for the weekend, cocooning himself in his righteous anger in an attempt to avoid the pain of Will's betrayal. He'd grown used to the prolonged pain of his separation from the man he loved, but now each thought of him brought an icy chill to his wounded heart that caused a throbbing ache that hurt in an entirely new way.
At night his pillow was damp with tears that he rubbed away forcefully, loathing himself for his weakness in the face of fresh heartbreak. But there was no other way to look at his situation, he had lost his lifeline, his single ray of hope and without it his world was painted with a bleak palette.
He walked the halls of William McKinley like a zombie on Monday morning. Any verbal cue thrown his way failed to penetrate the fog of deep anguish cloaking him, so insults and greetings alike melted away unheeded.
Ms. Pillsbury pried carefully into the cause of his dark mood, her hesitant approach was met with terse dismissal. Finn was like a hurt animal, licking his wound and displaying defensive aggression towards those who approached with the intention of aiding him. Emma watched with wide-eyed concern as the rest of their scheduled session passed, Finn remained uncommonly sullen.
*
At the start of Sue's practice, Finn willingly took a place on the bench as the rest of the club went through a number that the coach was strongly favoring for their upcoming performance at Sectionals.
“Finn?” Where as others had failed, the talented voice of the club's resident diva penetrated Finn's defenses and gained his attention.
Looking up slowly, he greeted his friend with uncharacteristic rudeness, “What?”
Rachel frowned and put a hand to her hip, “You okay?” She inquired with genuine concern.
In reply he snorted and dropped his chin back to his chest, neatly breaking eye contact and the conversation thread.
“I'll take that as a no,” She announced, almost entirely to herself as Finn didn't seem to be paying her any attention. “Do you want to talk about it?” She repeated her earlier acknowledgment of his negativity when her question was greeted with total silence.
Finn was the first person out the door when practice came to an end and Rachel watched his retreating figure worriedly. She quickly gathered her belongings and hurried to catch up with Kurt and Mercedes.
“Hey Kurt.” The duo pulled to a stop as she approached, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Kurt's gaze drifted up and down, sizing her up before concluding with resignation, “I don't see why not.”
“I'll catch you later,” Mercedes remarked, disconnecting her arm from his grip and waving to him before leaving Rachel and Kurt alone to talk.
“Do you know what's up with Finn?” True to form, Rachel launched straight to the point.
“What am I, a psychic?” Kurt replied drolly.
“You're sort of his family. I'm just worried about him.”
Kurt sighed and his superior veneer cracked as his own obvious concern became present, “I don't know what's up,” He summarized swiftly. “Last Friday he left here as chipper as ever, by the time Carole got home that evening he'd locked himself away in his room and didn't come out all weekend. He's like some horrible troll living in a cave.” He wrinkled his nose in displeasure.
“So no-one's spoken to him?” She asked.
“We went to a movie on Saturday. Dad knocked on the bedroom door to ask if he wanted to come along but he didn't even answer,” He explained. “His mom's been leaving food outside the door but he won't even open it if someone is on the other side.”
“What happened to him?” Rachel wondered despondently.
“Whatever it was, it happened some time last Friday between when he left school and when he got home,” Kurt supplied.
“You don't think he was attacked do you?” She suggested, horrified.
“What do you mean?”
“Most of the town knows about him and Mr. Schuester, maybe someone did something.”
“No way!” Kurt denied swiftly, “We'd see it if he'd been beaten up.”
“Maybe,” She answered, unconvinced. “But he might have bruises underneath his clothes.”
“It's no good us talking about it,” He asserted. “It's not like we can do anything.”
“No, we can do something,” She insisted emphatically. “We can be there for him.”
*
Early the next morning, Rachel dropped by the guidance counselor's office and found Emma dusting down a bookshelf.
She knocked on the door to gain her attention, “Ms. Pillsbury, can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh, yes. Rachel come in.” Emma quickly set aside the feather duster and sat behind her desk, straightening her skirt compulsively, “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
“I'm worried about Finn,” Rachel answered, perching on the edge of a seat tensely.
“Yes, he's... certainly troubled at the moment,” Emma agreed carefully.
“I was wondering if he said anything to you.”
“Oh no,” She denied quickly, her expression a little shocked. “Even if he had, I wouldn't be permitted to tell you. I have to maintain strict confidentiality with the students I see.”
“Well if not that, what was he like on Friday? Was there something that might've caused the change in his behavior?” Rachel appealed.
“I'm not allowed to tell you,” Emma repeated. “I'm sorry, Rachel. I think you should leave now.” Dejected, Rachel stood up to leave but before she could Ms. Pillsbury spoke again, “P-Perhaps, you should take this with you.”
Rachel collected the proffered leaflet and quickly read the title. She looked up to see the guidance counselor busily writing something and deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks, Ms. Pillsbury,” Rachel replied, sliding the pamphlet away.
Tracking Finn down, Rachel stayed as close to him as possible for the rest of the day, clinging to him like a fungus through their shared classes and lunch. She was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, by his absence at Glee and made a promise to herself to not give up on getting him to talk to her.
*
Rachel's near perpetual presence at Finn's side continued throughout the week until Friday morning during a study period in the library when he finally cracked and answered her.
“I'm incredibly pissed off,” He hissed across at her from over the top of an atlas that he wasn't paying much attention to. “How're you?”
She smiled softly, “Not so great. I've been worried about you. What's up?”
Finn looked back down at the atlas. He spent at least five minutes staring at Canada but she patiently waited him out.
“Have you ever...” He started and then ground to a halt.
“Yeah?” She prompted, worried that he might relapse into his mime act if she didn't offer support.
“Has an adult ever totally dismissed what you're saying because they think you're too young to know what you're talking about?” He asked.
“From time to time,” She answered honestly. “It kinda sucks.”
“Yeah, well, it sucks even more when what you're saying is that you love someone,” He remarked bitterly.
“Oh.” She perked with sudden understanding, “Finn, that's no big deal.”
“No big deal?” He snapped, causing several nearby students to glare at them and earning them a loud shush from the librarian. “It's a very big deal,” He continued at a quieter volume, “I don't like having my feelings pushed aside like they don't matter.”
“Finn, we're teenagers,” She reminded. “Adults think that we fall in love on a whim, half the time they aren't wrong. I loved Jesse.”
“This is different,” He answered her explanation coldly.
“I know,” She placated gently. “The problem is, our generation uses the word so much we've devalued it. I mean, I love waffles but I don't, y'know, love waffles.”
“But I do love Will,” He stated with raw pain.
“So find a way to show that,” She advised, reaching across the desk to claim his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Find a way so that whoever said you don't will have no choice but to believe you.”
Finn looked down at her hand, clasping his own so boldly, and felt some of its warmth break through the ice that had consumed him from within.
“Okay,” He accepted her suggestion with a firm nod. “I'll find a way so that no-one will ever doubt me again,” He vowed, his passion for Will stirring inside his heart and returning his stolen warmth. Roaring to life like an mighty engine, he was flooded with a determination that scattered his lethargy and gathered inspiration like precious gems.
*
Finn tapped the coin against the payphone, beating out a nervous rhythm as he held the handset to his ear and rehearsed the number he had long ago memorized. With a heart full of white-hot flame, trepidation and good intentions, he pushed a few quarters into the slot and dialed.
“Hello?” The voice was melancholy, with the faintest trace of hope. Finn's heart soared at the sound he hadn't heard in almost a full week but he reigned in his reaction, aware of the control he needed to take in the conversation.
“It's me,” He informed.
“Finn?” Will asked with undisguised longing, “I need to-”
“No,” He cut across. “Just shut up and let me speak.” Will obediently fell silent. “I'm a Kinsey 3. I only watched Jennifer's Body for Megan Fox and the tingly feeling in my stomach when I watch The Fast and the Furious is more to do with the guy driving the car than the cars themselves. I'm new to this and I'll make mistakes, but you aren't one. I love you, Will.”
“Finn... I-” Will started to respond to his lover's declaration, he held his tongue when the voice at the other end started once more.
“This Romeo is bleeding
but you can't see his blood.
It's nothing but some feelings
that this old dog kicked up.”
Finn crooned, the words coming easily and filled with sentiment effortlessly.
“It's been raining since you left me.
Now I'm drowning in the flood.
You see I've always been a fighter
but without you, I'll give up.”
Will's breath was soft and shaky in Finn's ear as he continued.
“I can't sing a love song
like the way it's meant to be.
I guess I'm not that good anymore,
but that's just me.”
“Oh God, Finn,” Will interjected in the space between the next lines, his voice was choked and filled with affection. Finn continued his performance to its conclusion.
“I will love you, baby,
Always.
I'll be there forever and a day,
Always.”
Letting the final note echo in the air around him, Finn leaned in close to the payphone and waited for his breathing to even out from the exertion of his performance.
“I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry,” Will started once the song was finished. “I love you too, I- I was an idiot. Can you-”
“It's okay,” Finn cut across his lover's plea for forgiveness. “I was dumb too. So let's just be dumb together from now on, okay?”
“I must have done some kind of miracle in a past live to deserve you, Finn Hudson,” Will remarked.
“Then your next life is gonna suck for all the sinning you've been doing with me,” Finn teased, glad to hear his lover chuckle, seeing it as a sign that they were getting back on track.
“I missed you so much,” Will confessed. “I kept thinking of every stupid little thing and I hated myself for how I screwed up. I thought I'd never hear you laugh again, or see you smile, or listen to you mangle the Spanish language.”
“Hey,” Finn declared with mock-offense. “I hablar español just fine, thank you very much.”
Will laughed appreciatively, “You've gotten better. When did that happen?” He mused pensively.
“Things change,” Finn remarked philosophically. “But in three and a half months you get to meet the new-and-improved me in person.”
“Three and a half months,” Will repeated, more mindful of how daunting that stretch of time appeared.
“Hey,” Finn stated. “It's some time, but I'll be here...” He paused, pressing his hand to the payphone as he always did when seeking to soothe his lover, “Always.”
*
His mom was deeply relieved to see that his brooding had stopped and organized a warm gathering of the Hudson/Hummel's as a return to what passed for normal since the start of all the drama. Finn couldn't bring himself to break up the evening and so postponed his retrospective coming-out for a more appropriate time.
He made a general apology for his behavior to his family and another to his friends at school the following Monday. Yet, as much as he tried to convince himself that he was returning to the routine he'd grown comfortable with since October, he knew that his week-long isolation from Will had left a mark that couldn't be easily ignored.
Once again, it was Rachel that stepped up to the task of comforting him.
She found him alone in the library after school on the Wednesday before yearbook photos were scheduled to be taken. The math textbook he was supposed to be working from as part of his scheduled catch-up session sat unopened beside him, instead he was pouring over a small mound of Thunderclaps, the previous year's edition lay closest to him.
“Hey Finn.” She approached softly, sensing from his body language that he was in a delicate frame of mind. He looked up at her words, an emotion she didn't recognize shining in his glassy eyes.
“Hi Rachel,” He spoke hollowly, before looking back down at the book.
“What are you doing?” She inquired, sliding into the seat beside him.
“I was starting to forget what he looked like,” Finn answered, his voice fragile as he traced a finger along the page.
Rachel directed her attention to the book and found the heavily gratified face of Mr. Schuester looking back at her. Finn was staring at the vulgar additions to the portrait, obviously upset. As her eyes automatically read the word 'PERV' scrawled above his picture, she shared the feeling.
“It's like this awful prediction,” He stated blankly. “He's unhappy.” He pointed to the sad expression visible underneath the added buckteeth. Flipping quickly through the pages, he stopped at the Glee club page, it was similarly disfigured but it was the element lacking from the photograph that mattered, “And he's not here,” Finn concluded. “Just like he's not here now.”
“There's no proof,” Rachel realized, suddenly comprehending her friend's utter dejection. There was no evidence in the Thunderclap that Mr. Schuester had saved the Glee club from being disbanded, had brought together twelve mismatched souls and produced a group of talented performers from it.
“I miss him, Rachel.” Finn waved a hand to indicate the array of yearbooks open before them, each one opened to a page featuring Mr. Schuester alongside a host of other teachers, both past and present. Over the past months, each snapshot had been cruelly defaced by disrespectful students and often with a distinct lack of originality.
Rachel stared at the bleak display and her dejected friend with a sense of hopelessness. Yet the strength of her conviction stayed as true in that moment as it ever had and she simply refused to relent, her keen mind beginning to formulate a plan.
*
The following morning Rachel found Finn by his locker, hurrying over to him, she whispered an instruction, “Our yearbook photos are scheduled for fourth period, before you go meet me here.”
“Why?” Finn asked.
“No time to explain right now, just trust me,” She answered.
When fourth period arrived, Finn followed her direction and broke away from his classmates as they made their way to the photographer and doubled back to his locker; finding Rachel waiting for him with a frantic expression and a Ziploc bag clenched in her hands.
“Come on, we don't have much time,” She instructed, grabbing his arm with her free hand and beginning to lead him.
“Where are we going?” He asked, compliantly following her lead.
“To borrow the Cheerios copy machine,” She answered.
“You need to make a copy now?” He asked incredulously, trying to get a look at the contents of the Ziploc bag, “Must be pretty important.”
“It is. Now be quiet,” She hushed, leaning round the edge of the door frame to check that the room was empty.
“Is this a good idea?” He asked, “You remember what happened last time.”
“It'll be fine,” She insisted. “We'll be in and out before anyone notices.” He wanted to remind her that she had said something similar the previous time but before he could she spoke again, “Okay. Let's move.”
As Rachel darted inside Finn followed along at a more relaxed pace, his interest in precisely what she was planning to produce copies of was enough for him to stick around.
“I nabbed this from the collection this morning,” Rachel explained, pulling a mint copy of the previous year's Thunderclap from the bag carefully. “I'll put it back before my dads notice but we'll have to be careful not to even smudge it or they'll know.”
“Is this-” Finn started to ask.
Rachel looked up, smiling kindly as he timidly thumbed through the pages in search of the one they needed. Once she'd found it, she held the book open to him to reveal a clean copy of Mr. Schuester's picture, “I can't lend you the book of course, so some high quality photocopies will have to do.” Placing the yearbook face down on the machine, she pressed a few buttons and the device burst into life, whirring noisily as it started spitting out replicas.
“Rachel, you're the best!” Finn declared cheerfully, pulling her into a hug.
“It's been said before,” She remarked playfully. “Now let's finish this rebellion and get-” As she turned towards the door she found herself facing Sue Sylvester, an almost perfect repetition of their previous capture, sans one spilled protein shake.
“Well, well, this looks to be quite the party I'm breaking,” Sue remarked, stepping easily past them to turn off the copy machine.
“Ms. Sylvester, I want you to know that this was entirely my plan. Finn holds none of the blame-” Rachel stopped short as Sue turned her withering gaze on her.
“You should be with the photographer, Berry,” She stated pointedly. Rachel straightened to her full height and tried to stare the coach down, “Clear out, Argyle!” Visibly crumbling, Rachel shot Finn an apologetic look and followed the command.
Picking up the small stack of copies that the machine had successfully produced prior to her arrival, Sue looked at the image, which seemed to confirm her suspicions, “I think you'd better come with me, Hudson.”
Finn was tempted to obstinately disobey her but knew it would only bring him trouble. Further to that, with the copies firmly in her grip the only chance he had of retrieving them would be to accompany her, so he followed along as she led him to her office, having to walk quite quickly to keep up with her powerful stride.
Inside, she sat comfortably behind her desk and began to prepare a protein shake. She didn't offer him a seat until she was finished.
“I can pay for the copies,” He stated when she didn't seem inclined to say anything.
“Really now?” She asked, flicking through the pages without looking at him.
“I have...” He dug around in his pockets for all the change he had.
“That's your lunch money,” She pointed out while he was still trying to dig the last few coins from the depths of his jeans.
Finn shrugged, “Copies aren't that expensive.”
“They can be,” She replied. “If I told you that you could have just one of these in exchange for every last cent you have on you, would you do it?”
“Sure,” He replied immediately, shoving the bundle of bills and coins in her direction and reaching for the stack.
“That was a hypothetical question,” She informed, retracting the pile of copies from his reach.
Finn returned to his seat, eying her with open dislike. Something she did not ignore.
“What do you think of me?” She mused, “Evil, spiteful, sadistic?”
He remained tight-lipped.
“It's okay, you can be honest.”
“All of the above,” He answered simply.
She smiled, thin and humorlessly, “I didn't reveal your relationship with Will Schuester out of petty dislike.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I make no secret of my dislike for the man,” She answered his accusation plainly, “but my reasons began with you.”
“You barely know me,” He argued.
“I know you better than you think,” She responded. “Young and naïve, so totally caught up in a forbidden romance that you fail to notice your tryst is really a trap. I went through the same thing at your age and here I am fifteen years later, bitter and jaded, with wealth and fame but almost no romantic prospects.” She observed his disbelieving expression, “What, you thought I was born like this?” She barked angrily.
Finn had actually been having trouble accepting her claim to only be in her 30s, but what little tact he did have was enough for him to know that a woman's age was a volatile subject and so he wisely stayed silent.
“You'll never believe it. You'll never thank me, but I saved you a whole lot of pain when I turned you in.”
“You're wrong,” He replied bluntly. “You got hurt in the past, that sucks and I'm sorry, but you were wrong to assume that Will and I would end up the same way.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged disbelievingly, “But I'm not cruel like you might think.” She handed the stack of photocopies across to him.
He looked down at the image of his lover, the familiar features flooding his mind and conjuring up pleasant memories, “Than-”
“When your whole world is shattered and you're a depressed loner clinging to a memory, just remember that I tried to save you,” She interrupted his thanks drably.
He stood up to leave, but paused in the doorway. Looking back over his shoulder at the coach, he acknowledged the strangely approachable mood she was in and decided to chance a request, “Ms. Sylvester?”
“What now?”
“I want to sing a solo for Sectionals,” He answered firmly.
She frowned for a few moments before inquiring, “You have something in mind?”
He glanced down at the image on the paper, a soft smile gracing his face, “Yeah.”
She took another few moments before replying, “Sing it tomorrow and we'll put it to a vote. Sound fair?”
“Sounds good.” He nodded at her, then left.
Outside the coach's office the halls were beginning to fill with students on their way to their next period, or to visit the photographer. Directly opposite Murphy and Anderson were hanging about, along with a few other members of the football team.
“Hey Hudson, what's up?” Murphy yelled mockingly, “You banging Coach Sylvester now?”
Finn grit his teeth and turned to walk away, when suddenly he felt an arm around his shoulder. Turning to look, he found Puck holding onto him.
“Actually we both are,” Puck shouted back with a leer. “Older women, more experience. You know what I'm saying?” Finn grinned at the disgusted expression that crossed Murphy's face and walked easily with Puck around the corner. Once they were out of sight Puck backed off, until just his hand was clinging to Finn's shoulder, “We cool?” He asked.
Finn read the deeper meaning in the question and answered readily, “Yeah, we're cool.”
Puck clapped him on the shoulder and grinned roguishly, “Great. See ya later, dude.”
Finn watched his friend jog off down the hall to catch up with someone, it was strange how the rules of Guyhood seemed to work, but through that brief exchange he knew that he had regained Puck's friendship.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 8/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5902
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language
Dr. Jackson's office was small but efficiently furnished so as to provide enough space. A desk and two filing cabinets were tucked away along the back wall, with the doctor's diploma hanging above the desk, displayed where it was clearly visible without deliberately attracting attention. The rest of the room was given over to a large couch, an armchair for the psychologist and a bookshelf stacked with thick textbooks and journals.
The room was professional, with welcoming elements such a medium-sized potted fern in the corner by the door. Will had felt a familiarity with the office upon his first visit, recognizing aspects of the tidy layout from his ex-wife's flighty interest in feng shui, but with his purpose for being there he had never managed to feel comfortable.
“You've been quoted as saying that you've dealt with crushes before, but you don't believe Finn's feelings for you should be classified as a crush,” Dr. Jackson commented, his attention directed at the open file in his lap.
“That's correct,” Will replied, running a finger across the fabric of his jeans and, as usual, refusing the offer to lie down on the couch in favor of sitting upright upon it.
“How exactly would you recognize a student with a crush?” The psychologist probed.
“There are signs,” He replied sagely. “Most teachers come to recognize them and anticipate a student's approach before it occurs.”
“Did Finn present any signs of attraction to you prior to his admission of his feelings?”
“Finn was different,” Will responded calmly. “Usually a student with a crush would approach me for the first time once the spark of attraction grew, but he and I were already close because of Glee. He trusted me, he'd often ask me for advice or turn to me for support.”
“So how did his profession of his feelings differ from those of other students with an interest in you?”
“In terms of content, not all that much. He's not what you could call articulate,” Will remarked fondly. “But he's honest, completely and truly genuine. When he told me how he felt, he had a maturity that no student before him had ever achieved.”
“You mention his maturity but he is still only sixteen,” The doctor remarked. “I don't know him personally, so I can't be one to judge, but I don't know many teenagers with the emotional capacity to comprehend the mechanics of a mature relationship.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Will questioned, bristling at the other man's cynical words.
“I'm making no assumptions,” Dr. Jackson prefaced defensively. “I respect your assurance that you love Finn. I simply have my doubts that he comprehends the notion of love enough to not be confusing it with an assortment of other emotions.”
“He's not,” Will insisted unmoving.
“You worked in an environment with teenagers for a number of years, so you must recognize that they're a collective mass of hormonal energy. I'm simply asking you to consider your relationship from an outsider's perspective,” The psychologist appealed.
“So you're assuming, entirely by age, that Finn can't be in love with me. He's just some dumb kid looking to get laid,” He summarized harshly.
“No assumptions!” The doctor repeated with a squeak, the fingers of one hand tangling nervously in the hairs of his skunk patch, “I just- Just consider it, please.”
Will's irritation subsided slowly and he firmly told himself that there was no basis to the psychologist's wrongful interpretation, but the fact that he had to convince himself at all was evidence of some small doubt in his own belief.
*
“Will, I'm bisexual.”
Pausing with the phone pressed to his ear and a carton of milk in his other hand, Will watched the refrigerator door swing closed. The muffled slam spurred him back into action, “I'm aware of that, Finn,” He remarked blandly, setting the milk down on the counter and tucking the phone against his ear with his shoulder so he could use both hands to open the carton.
“I know, it's just- I'm trying to practice for when I tell Mom and I don't know who else to rehearse with,” Finn explained. “Seriously, points out of ten, how did I do?”
Will took a moment to consider his response as he poured milk onto his cereal. Replacing the carton in the fridge, he returned the phone to his hand and asked the first question that presented itself, “Why are you telling your mom? I'm pretty sure she's already aware of the situation.”
“Yeah, aware,” Finn repeated with a snort. “I got a leaflet from Ms. Pillsbury with step-by-step tips on coming out and surprisingly, 'Phone call from the police to inform that you're being held in custody for illegally dating your Spanish teacher' didn't make it into the top ten.”
“I'll admit that how your mom found out wasn't exactly...” Will frowned as he sought an appropriate word, “the most graceful way she could have been informed but the point stands that she does know now.”
“I know,” Finn agreed. “I just think she deserves a proper coming out. What with the ambushing you at your apartment and the argument over whether or not you'd raped me, we didn't exactly get round to the hugging and acceptance. So this'll be like a do-over, a chance to get it right.”
“You're sounding a little optimistic about this,” Will cautioned.
“What do you mean?” Finn asked defensively.
“I'm just concerned that you might seem a little blasé,” He replied.
“It's okay, I've got this,” Finn insisted. “I'm a Kinsey 3. I'm comfortable with that and I can relay that information with confidence.” From the tone of his voice it was clear he was quoting advice from the leaflet.
Will's doubt from his earlier conversation with Dr. Jackson prompted him to challenge his lover's assurance, “Kinsey 3. Are you sure?”
“I read the Kinsey leaflet,” Finn replied indignantly. “Both sexes, that's a 3.” A small pause and then he spoke again, “Okay, so maybe I'm closer to 2... 2.5?” He suggested gently.
“You see my point?” Will challenged, “You shouldn't rush this, you have to be sure before you-”
“I am sure,” Finn snapped. “Okay, so maybe I'm not being precise right now but I've got the basics down. Boobs are awesome but I love you, so I'm in the middle somewhere.”
“You're oversimplifying things,” Will admonished.
“What's up with you?” Finn demanded sharply, “Everything I say you're shooting me down. Newsflash: you aren't my teacher anymore, Will.”
The blow struck low. Will's stomach coiled and his fingers tightened on the phone reflexively, “Perhaps not,” He admitted, attempting to breathe out his tension. “But I thought I was someone whose opinion you respected.”
“No, hey, I-” Finn spluttered for a few seconds as he sought out his apology, “Sorry, I'm- That was a stupid thing to say.”
“It's fine,” Will dismissed, but the tension didn't entirely leave.
“It's just, I feel like something's up with you,” Finn persisted. “What's the deal?”
“Just something Dr. Jackson said today.”
“Oh?” Finn sounded intrigued.
They'd often discussed details of their therapy sessions for shared amusement but Will suspected that his confession wouldn't be met with the same good humor, “He believes you might be too immature to understand the concept of love.”
“O-kay,” Finn stretched the word out as he considered Will's words. “I'm waiting for the punchline.”
Will picked up his spoon and idly stirred the soggy Rice Puffs, the logical part of his brain screaming at him to not vocalize his thoughts but total honesty won out, “I'm worried he might be right.”
The other end of the line wasn't silent, there were heavy breaths and the shuffle of fingers getting a better grip on the handset to keep Will company as he tensely awaited Finn's reply.
“Could you run that by me again?” Finn requested monotonously.
Will licked his dry lips before complying, “Dr. Jackson believes you may have entered into a relationship with me without fully comprehending the finer details and emotions it would entail. I-” He choked as his mind begged him not to dig the hole any deeper, “I think he might be... not entirely mistaken.”
There was another tense pause, broken by a heated growl and a loud impact, from which Will rightly deduced that Finn had punched the wall in his anger, “So all the times I told you I loved you, that just means nothing now?” Finn demanded, beneath his surface rage a deep pain flourished, “All because some head-doctor told you so.”
“You're only sixteen, Finn. How can you-”
“I'm sorry,” He interrupted Will's rationalization fiercely. “I didn't know love came with an age limit. Should I apply for a provisional license?”
“Finn, you're being-”
“I'm being?” Finn repeated incredulously, a maniacal edge creeping into his tone, “You're being!” He spat the words like an insult, “I'm surrounded by adults telling me that I'm just some dumb kid who got manipulated by the big, bad man. The last person I expected to hear that from was you, Will. I thought you would know the truth... now, now I don't know what to think.” His words became high and thin as his breakdown into tears raced towards him.
“Finn, please just-” Will desperately tried to make him listen.
“Bye Will,” Finn forced out and hastily hung up, leaving Will with nothing but the dial tone.
“Finn,” Will called into the dead phone. “Finn, please!” Letting the phone drop to his lap, he pushed the bowl of cereal aside and slumped over the counter dejectedly with his head buried in his arms. “Oh God!” He breathed out rapidly, close to hyperventilating as total despair consumed him. “That could have gone better,” He remarked, breaking into hysterical laughter as the first tears sprung forth from the corners of his eyes.
*
Finn shut himself away in his room for the weekend, cocooning himself in his righteous anger in an attempt to avoid the pain of Will's betrayal. He'd grown used to the prolonged pain of his separation from the man he loved, but now each thought of him brought an icy chill to his wounded heart that caused a throbbing ache that hurt in an entirely new way.
At night his pillow was damp with tears that he rubbed away forcefully, loathing himself for his weakness in the face of fresh heartbreak. But there was no other way to look at his situation, he had lost his lifeline, his single ray of hope and without it his world was painted with a bleak palette.
He walked the halls of William McKinley like a zombie on Monday morning. Any verbal cue thrown his way failed to penetrate the fog of deep anguish cloaking him, so insults and greetings alike melted away unheeded.
Ms. Pillsbury pried carefully into the cause of his dark mood, her hesitant approach was met with terse dismissal. Finn was like a hurt animal, licking his wound and displaying defensive aggression towards those who approached with the intention of aiding him. Emma watched with wide-eyed concern as the rest of their scheduled session passed, Finn remained uncommonly sullen.
*
At the start of Sue's practice, Finn willingly took a place on the bench as the rest of the club went through a number that the coach was strongly favoring for their upcoming performance at Sectionals.
“Finn?” Where as others had failed, the talented voice of the club's resident diva penetrated Finn's defenses and gained his attention.
Looking up slowly, he greeted his friend with uncharacteristic rudeness, “What?”
Rachel frowned and put a hand to her hip, “You okay?” She inquired with genuine concern.
In reply he snorted and dropped his chin back to his chest, neatly breaking eye contact and the conversation thread.
“I'll take that as a no,” She announced, almost entirely to herself as Finn didn't seem to be paying her any attention. “Do you want to talk about it?” She repeated her earlier acknowledgment of his negativity when her question was greeted with total silence.
Finn was the first person out the door when practice came to an end and Rachel watched his retreating figure worriedly. She quickly gathered her belongings and hurried to catch up with Kurt and Mercedes.
“Hey Kurt.” The duo pulled to a stop as she approached, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Kurt's gaze drifted up and down, sizing her up before concluding with resignation, “I don't see why not.”
“I'll catch you later,” Mercedes remarked, disconnecting her arm from his grip and waving to him before leaving Rachel and Kurt alone to talk.
“Do you know what's up with Finn?” True to form, Rachel launched straight to the point.
“What am I, a psychic?” Kurt replied drolly.
“You're sort of his family. I'm just worried about him.”
Kurt sighed and his superior veneer cracked as his own obvious concern became present, “I don't know what's up,” He summarized swiftly. “Last Friday he left here as chipper as ever, by the time Carole got home that evening he'd locked himself away in his room and didn't come out all weekend. He's like some horrible troll living in a cave.” He wrinkled his nose in displeasure.
“So no-one's spoken to him?” She asked.
“We went to a movie on Saturday. Dad knocked on the bedroom door to ask if he wanted to come along but he didn't even answer,” He explained. “His mom's been leaving food outside the door but he won't even open it if someone is on the other side.”
“What happened to him?” Rachel wondered despondently.
“Whatever it was, it happened some time last Friday between when he left school and when he got home,” Kurt supplied.
“You don't think he was attacked do you?” She suggested, horrified.
“What do you mean?”
“Most of the town knows about him and Mr. Schuester, maybe someone did something.”
“No way!” Kurt denied swiftly, “We'd see it if he'd been beaten up.”
“Maybe,” She answered, unconvinced. “But he might have bruises underneath his clothes.”
“It's no good us talking about it,” He asserted. “It's not like we can do anything.”
“No, we can do something,” She insisted emphatically. “We can be there for him.”
*
Early the next morning, Rachel dropped by the guidance counselor's office and found Emma dusting down a bookshelf.
She knocked on the door to gain her attention, “Ms. Pillsbury, can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh, yes. Rachel come in.” Emma quickly set aside the feather duster and sat behind her desk, straightening her skirt compulsively, “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
“I'm worried about Finn,” Rachel answered, perching on the edge of a seat tensely.
“Yes, he's... certainly troubled at the moment,” Emma agreed carefully.
“I was wondering if he said anything to you.”
“Oh no,” She denied quickly, her expression a little shocked. “Even if he had, I wouldn't be permitted to tell you. I have to maintain strict confidentiality with the students I see.”
“Well if not that, what was he like on Friday? Was there something that might've caused the change in his behavior?” Rachel appealed.
“I'm not allowed to tell you,” Emma repeated. “I'm sorry, Rachel. I think you should leave now.” Dejected, Rachel stood up to leave but before she could Ms. Pillsbury spoke again, “P-Perhaps, you should take this with you.”
Rachel collected the proffered leaflet and quickly read the title. She looked up to see the guidance counselor busily writing something and deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks, Ms. Pillsbury,” Rachel replied, sliding the pamphlet away.
Tracking Finn down, Rachel stayed as close to him as possible for the rest of the day, clinging to him like a fungus through their shared classes and lunch. She was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, by his absence at Glee and made a promise to herself to not give up on getting him to talk to her.
*
Rachel's near perpetual presence at Finn's side continued throughout the week until Friday morning during a study period in the library when he finally cracked and answered her.
“I'm incredibly pissed off,” He hissed across at her from over the top of an atlas that he wasn't paying much attention to. “How're you?”
She smiled softly, “Not so great. I've been worried about you. What's up?”
Finn looked back down at the atlas. He spent at least five minutes staring at Canada but she patiently waited him out.
“Have you ever...” He started and then ground to a halt.
“Yeah?” She prompted, worried that he might relapse into his mime act if she didn't offer support.
“Has an adult ever totally dismissed what you're saying because they think you're too young to know what you're talking about?” He asked.
“From time to time,” She answered honestly. “It kinda sucks.”
“Yeah, well, it sucks even more when what you're saying is that you love someone,” He remarked bitterly.
“Oh.” She perked with sudden understanding, “Finn, that's no big deal.”
“No big deal?” He snapped, causing several nearby students to glare at them and earning them a loud shush from the librarian. “It's a very big deal,” He continued at a quieter volume, “I don't like having my feelings pushed aside like they don't matter.”
“Finn, we're teenagers,” She reminded. “Adults think that we fall in love on a whim, half the time they aren't wrong. I loved Jesse.”
“This is different,” He answered her explanation coldly.
“I know,” She placated gently. “The problem is, our generation uses the word so much we've devalued it. I mean, I love waffles but I don't, y'know, love waffles.”
“But I do love Will,” He stated with raw pain.
“So find a way to show that,” She advised, reaching across the desk to claim his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Find a way so that whoever said you don't will have no choice but to believe you.”
Finn looked down at her hand, clasping his own so boldly, and felt some of its warmth break through the ice that had consumed him from within.
“Okay,” He accepted her suggestion with a firm nod. “I'll find a way so that no-one will ever doubt me again,” He vowed, his passion for Will stirring inside his heart and returning his stolen warmth. Roaring to life like an mighty engine, he was flooded with a determination that scattered his lethargy and gathered inspiration like precious gems.
*
Finn tapped the coin against the payphone, beating out a nervous rhythm as he held the handset to his ear and rehearsed the number he had long ago memorized. With a heart full of white-hot flame, trepidation and good intentions, he pushed a few quarters into the slot and dialed.
“Hello?” The voice was melancholy, with the faintest trace of hope. Finn's heart soared at the sound he hadn't heard in almost a full week but he reigned in his reaction, aware of the control he needed to take in the conversation.
“It's me,” He informed.
“Finn?” Will asked with undisguised longing, “I need to-”
“No,” He cut across. “Just shut up and let me speak.” Will obediently fell silent. “I'm a Kinsey 3. I only watched Jennifer's Body for Megan Fox and the tingly feeling in my stomach when I watch The Fast and the Furious is more to do with the guy driving the car than the cars themselves. I'm new to this and I'll make mistakes, but you aren't one. I love you, Will.”
“Finn... I-” Will started to respond to his lover's declaration, he held his tongue when the voice at the other end started once more.
“This Romeo is bleeding
but you can't see his blood.
It's nothing but some feelings
that this old dog kicked up.”
Finn crooned, the words coming easily and filled with sentiment effortlessly.
“It's been raining since you left me.
Now I'm drowning in the flood.
You see I've always been a fighter
but without you, I'll give up.”
Will's breath was soft and shaky in Finn's ear as he continued.
“I can't sing a love song
like the way it's meant to be.
I guess I'm not that good anymore,
but that's just me.”
“Oh God, Finn,” Will interjected in the space between the next lines, his voice was choked and filled with affection. Finn continued his performance to its conclusion.
“I will love you, baby,
Always.
I'll be there forever and a day,
Always.”
Letting the final note echo in the air around him, Finn leaned in close to the payphone and waited for his breathing to even out from the exertion of his performance.
“I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry,” Will started once the song was finished. “I love you too, I- I was an idiot. Can you-”
“It's okay,” Finn cut across his lover's plea for forgiveness. “I was dumb too. So let's just be dumb together from now on, okay?”
“I must have done some kind of miracle in a past live to deserve you, Finn Hudson,” Will remarked.
“Then your next life is gonna suck for all the sinning you've been doing with me,” Finn teased, glad to hear his lover chuckle, seeing it as a sign that they were getting back on track.
“I missed you so much,” Will confessed. “I kept thinking of every stupid little thing and I hated myself for how I screwed up. I thought I'd never hear you laugh again, or see you smile, or listen to you mangle the Spanish language.”
“Hey,” Finn declared with mock-offense. “I hablar español just fine, thank you very much.”
Will laughed appreciatively, “You've gotten better. When did that happen?” He mused pensively.
“Things change,” Finn remarked philosophically. “But in three and a half months you get to meet the new-and-improved me in person.”
“Three and a half months,” Will repeated, more mindful of how daunting that stretch of time appeared.
“Hey,” Finn stated. “It's some time, but I'll be here...” He paused, pressing his hand to the payphone as he always did when seeking to soothe his lover, “Always.”
*
His mom was deeply relieved to see that his brooding had stopped and organized a warm gathering of the Hudson/Hummel's as a return to what passed for normal since the start of all the drama. Finn couldn't bring himself to break up the evening and so postponed his retrospective coming-out for a more appropriate time.
He made a general apology for his behavior to his family and another to his friends at school the following Monday. Yet, as much as he tried to convince himself that he was returning to the routine he'd grown comfortable with since October, he knew that his week-long isolation from Will had left a mark that couldn't be easily ignored.
Once again, it was Rachel that stepped up to the task of comforting him.
She found him alone in the library after school on the Wednesday before yearbook photos were scheduled to be taken. The math textbook he was supposed to be working from as part of his scheduled catch-up session sat unopened beside him, instead he was pouring over a small mound of Thunderclaps, the previous year's edition lay closest to him.
“Hey Finn.” She approached softly, sensing from his body language that he was in a delicate frame of mind. He looked up at her words, an emotion she didn't recognize shining in his glassy eyes.
“Hi Rachel,” He spoke hollowly, before looking back down at the book.
“What are you doing?” She inquired, sliding into the seat beside him.
“I was starting to forget what he looked like,” Finn answered, his voice fragile as he traced a finger along the page.
Rachel directed her attention to the book and found the heavily gratified face of Mr. Schuester looking back at her. Finn was staring at the vulgar additions to the portrait, obviously upset. As her eyes automatically read the word 'PERV' scrawled above his picture, she shared the feeling.
“It's like this awful prediction,” He stated blankly. “He's unhappy.” He pointed to the sad expression visible underneath the added buckteeth. Flipping quickly through the pages, he stopped at the Glee club page, it was similarly disfigured but it was the element lacking from the photograph that mattered, “And he's not here,” Finn concluded. “Just like he's not here now.”
“There's no proof,” Rachel realized, suddenly comprehending her friend's utter dejection. There was no evidence in the Thunderclap that Mr. Schuester had saved the Glee club from being disbanded, had brought together twelve mismatched souls and produced a group of talented performers from it.
“I miss him, Rachel.” Finn waved a hand to indicate the array of yearbooks open before them, each one opened to a page featuring Mr. Schuester alongside a host of other teachers, both past and present. Over the past months, each snapshot had been cruelly defaced by disrespectful students and often with a distinct lack of originality.
Rachel stared at the bleak display and her dejected friend with a sense of hopelessness. Yet the strength of her conviction stayed as true in that moment as it ever had and she simply refused to relent, her keen mind beginning to formulate a plan.
*
The following morning Rachel found Finn by his locker, hurrying over to him, she whispered an instruction, “Our yearbook photos are scheduled for fourth period, before you go meet me here.”
“Why?” Finn asked.
“No time to explain right now, just trust me,” She answered.
When fourth period arrived, Finn followed her direction and broke away from his classmates as they made their way to the photographer and doubled back to his locker; finding Rachel waiting for him with a frantic expression and a Ziploc bag clenched in her hands.
“Come on, we don't have much time,” She instructed, grabbing his arm with her free hand and beginning to lead him.
“Where are we going?” He asked, compliantly following her lead.
“To borrow the Cheerios copy machine,” She answered.
“You need to make a copy now?” He asked incredulously, trying to get a look at the contents of the Ziploc bag, “Must be pretty important.”
“It is. Now be quiet,” She hushed, leaning round the edge of the door frame to check that the room was empty.
“Is this a good idea?” He asked, “You remember what happened last time.”
“It'll be fine,” She insisted. “We'll be in and out before anyone notices.” He wanted to remind her that she had said something similar the previous time but before he could she spoke again, “Okay. Let's move.”
As Rachel darted inside Finn followed along at a more relaxed pace, his interest in precisely what she was planning to produce copies of was enough for him to stick around.
“I nabbed this from the collection this morning,” Rachel explained, pulling a mint copy of the previous year's Thunderclap from the bag carefully. “I'll put it back before my dads notice but we'll have to be careful not to even smudge it or they'll know.”
“Is this-” Finn started to ask.
Rachel looked up, smiling kindly as he timidly thumbed through the pages in search of the one they needed. Once she'd found it, she held the book open to him to reveal a clean copy of Mr. Schuester's picture, “I can't lend you the book of course, so some high quality photocopies will have to do.” Placing the yearbook face down on the machine, she pressed a few buttons and the device burst into life, whirring noisily as it started spitting out replicas.
“Rachel, you're the best!” Finn declared cheerfully, pulling her into a hug.
“It's been said before,” She remarked playfully. “Now let's finish this rebellion and get-” As she turned towards the door she found herself facing Sue Sylvester, an almost perfect repetition of their previous capture, sans one spilled protein shake.
“Well, well, this looks to be quite the party I'm breaking,” Sue remarked, stepping easily past them to turn off the copy machine.
“Ms. Sylvester, I want you to know that this was entirely my plan. Finn holds none of the blame-” Rachel stopped short as Sue turned her withering gaze on her.
“You should be with the photographer, Berry,” She stated pointedly. Rachel straightened to her full height and tried to stare the coach down, “Clear out, Argyle!” Visibly crumbling, Rachel shot Finn an apologetic look and followed the command.
Picking up the small stack of copies that the machine had successfully produced prior to her arrival, Sue looked at the image, which seemed to confirm her suspicions, “I think you'd better come with me, Hudson.”
Finn was tempted to obstinately disobey her but knew it would only bring him trouble. Further to that, with the copies firmly in her grip the only chance he had of retrieving them would be to accompany her, so he followed along as she led him to her office, having to walk quite quickly to keep up with her powerful stride.
Inside, she sat comfortably behind her desk and began to prepare a protein shake. She didn't offer him a seat until she was finished.
“I can pay for the copies,” He stated when she didn't seem inclined to say anything.
“Really now?” She asked, flicking through the pages without looking at him.
“I have...” He dug around in his pockets for all the change he had.
“That's your lunch money,” She pointed out while he was still trying to dig the last few coins from the depths of his jeans.
Finn shrugged, “Copies aren't that expensive.”
“They can be,” She replied. “If I told you that you could have just one of these in exchange for every last cent you have on you, would you do it?”
“Sure,” He replied immediately, shoving the bundle of bills and coins in her direction and reaching for the stack.
“That was a hypothetical question,” She informed, retracting the pile of copies from his reach.
Finn returned to his seat, eying her with open dislike. Something she did not ignore.
“What do you think of me?” She mused, “Evil, spiteful, sadistic?”
He remained tight-lipped.
“It's okay, you can be honest.”
“All of the above,” He answered simply.
She smiled, thin and humorlessly, “I didn't reveal your relationship with Will Schuester out of petty dislike.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I make no secret of my dislike for the man,” She answered his accusation plainly, “but my reasons began with you.”
“You barely know me,” He argued.
“I know you better than you think,” She responded. “Young and naïve, so totally caught up in a forbidden romance that you fail to notice your tryst is really a trap. I went through the same thing at your age and here I am fifteen years later, bitter and jaded, with wealth and fame but almost no romantic prospects.” She observed his disbelieving expression, “What, you thought I was born like this?” She barked angrily.
Finn had actually been having trouble accepting her claim to only be in her 30s, but what little tact he did have was enough for him to know that a woman's age was a volatile subject and so he wisely stayed silent.
“You'll never believe it. You'll never thank me, but I saved you a whole lot of pain when I turned you in.”
“You're wrong,” He replied bluntly. “You got hurt in the past, that sucks and I'm sorry, but you were wrong to assume that Will and I would end up the same way.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged disbelievingly, “But I'm not cruel like you might think.” She handed the stack of photocopies across to him.
He looked down at the image of his lover, the familiar features flooding his mind and conjuring up pleasant memories, “Than-”
“When your whole world is shattered and you're a depressed loner clinging to a memory, just remember that I tried to save you,” She interrupted his thanks drably.
He stood up to leave, but paused in the doorway. Looking back over his shoulder at the coach, he acknowledged the strangely approachable mood she was in and decided to chance a request, “Ms. Sylvester?”
“What now?”
“I want to sing a solo for Sectionals,” He answered firmly.
She frowned for a few moments before inquiring, “You have something in mind?”
He glanced down at the image on the paper, a soft smile gracing his face, “Yeah.”
She took another few moments before replying, “Sing it tomorrow and we'll put it to a vote. Sound fair?”
“Sounds good.” He nodded at her, then left.
Outside the coach's office the halls were beginning to fill with students on their way to their next period, or to visit the photographer. Directly opposite Murphy and Anderson were hanging about, along with a few other members of the football team.
“Hey Hudson, what's up?” Murphy yelled mockingly, “You banging Coach Sylvester now?”
Finn grit his teeth and turned to walk away, when suddenly he felt an arm around his shoulder. Turning to look, he found Puck holding onto him.
“Actually we both are,” Puck shouted back with a leer. “Older women, more experience. You know what I'm saying?” Finn grinned at the disgusted expression that crossed Murphy's face and walked easily with Puck around the corner. Once they were out of sight Puck backed off, until just his hand was clinging to Finn's shoulder, “We cool?” He asked.
Finn read the deeper meaning in the question and answered readily, “Yeah, we're cool.”
Puck clapped him on the shoulder and grinned roguishly, “Great. See ya later, dude.”
Finn watched his friend jog off down the hall to catch up with someone, it was strange how the rules of Guyhood seemed to work, but through that brief exchange he knew that he had regained Puck's friendship.