Fic: Roses in My Hand
Title: Roses in My Hand
Author: Soliloquyrain
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: R for F-Bombs.
Word Count: 5,817
Spoilers: None
Summary: Roll outta bed and down on your knees, and for a moment you can hardly breathe. There is an art to forgiveness, and they're still learning it--one moment, one mistake, and a torrent of consequences.
Author's note: Written for our Not-So-Secret-Santa fic swap. Written for Kandykanemel. I have taken your prompt and twisted, pulled, pushed, and completely turned it into something else. I hope you still enjoy it, and Happy Christmas everyone. Also, shout out to theberrifairy cause she's just got it like that.
This fic would be a steaming pile of garbage were it not for the fantastic becca_radcgg, and as such, it is most definitely dedicated to her. Thank you, so very much for all of your help. I have no words.
_____
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
the waking up is the hardest part
Her world tilts, just barely, on a Wednesday evening when he blusters into their tiny apartment, crosses the room in five long strides, and takes her in his arms.
He picks her up and twirls her, effortlessly, ignoring her shrieks and protests and when he sets her down again, he is practically aglow. He tells her to fuck cooking, put on her sexiest dress, and prepare for the time of her life, they're going to have a night on the town; he's made it, he says. He's been found.
_____
There's an art to anticipation, and they've mastered it.
Anticipating that phone call, anticipating that job offer, anticipating the day fate finally steps in and pulls back the curtain.
She's an understudy in Wicked, so close to the spotlight she can taste it in the air; he spends his evenings in smoky bars, singing songs he wrote for her in a tangled mess under their sheets from Ikea. Their apartment is tiny and they spent their first wedding anniversary in the living room with a box of pizza and old DVDs. The bills go unpaid more often than not, and they survive on cheap food and big dreams.
They're both waiting for the opening ceremony to signal the start of something bigger, but they're patient. After all, they have each other, and that's far more important to the both of them than any red curtain.
_____
They never do make it to dinner--instead he takes her against the refrigerator and then carries her to their bedroom where he spends the rest of the night whispering against her skin all of the things he's going to buy her when they're rich.
_____
She's happy for him, really, she is. She loves him more than she loves Broadway and she's not about to be so petty as to resent his breakout.
But when he tells her he's been invited to open for some up-and-coming band, her smile falters. A tour. Nine months of traveling--more, if they really take off.
"But, we'll be separated that whole time."
"Come with me."
"I can't, what about my career? I can't just up and leave the cast."
He waves away her concern and pulls her to him. "Okay, then. It's only a few months, anyways, babe. I'll call you every night. And every morning. You will not be able to escape me." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles down at her. "It'll be worth it."
_____
She finds that coming home to an empty apartment is the hardest thing she's ever had to do; it takes her a while to get used to cooking dinner for one.
_____
Time passes--months, or years, or decades, she can't tell--and it's debilitating, loneliness is.
He keeps his promise and calls every night (sometimes two or three times a day), but their calls are getting shorter. He's busy, or she's tired, and sometimes he forgets to charge his cell phone and they only have a precious few minutes before the battery gives out.
One night she is lying in bed, barely awake, when she says she should get some rest.
"Stay on the phone," he says, "I want to hear you fall asleep."
_____
Two months in, Kurt visits.
"Oh, honey," he says disdainfully, "We have got to do something about your interior decorating." He eyes the couch with disgust. "Please tell me I won't be sleeping on that."
She frowns. "Noah's mom gave us that when we got married."
"Hmmm." He notices a pair of cowboy hats hanging on the wall. "Are those...?"
"Yeah." She smiles and fingers one gingerly. "Good times."
When he leaves a week later, loneliness settles back into the corners; she sits on her couch and cries.
_____
Five months in. Their bank account is growing fast, but some nights, he forgets to call. He always apologizes the next day.
_____
Seven months in, Finn visits, and he stays at a hotel three blocks over. Though she wants to be a good hostess and invite him to stay (she'd love the company), she thinks it would be too weird for him to sleep on the same couch she and Noah have used so many times.
His third night in town, he calls to take her out to dinner; she walks with him to her door just past midnight with way too much alcohol in her system and the painful memory of the loneliness waiting for her just inside.
It takes an intense gaze and only a second of uncertainty, and she finds herself pressed against the door of her apartment with his mouth on her shoulder, his hands under her shirt.
They stumble into the apartment and across the living room, his fumbling hands tugging at his tie, pulling the buttons of his shirt open. They fall onto the couch in an uncoordinated heap, and his weight feels uncomfortable on her.
He grabs her hips as his lips find hers, and the taste is wrong, all wrong. His hands are too wide on her body, his mouth too tentative, he's too silent, focused entirely on the moment. His thumb grazes her nipple through the thin material of her bra, and she suddenly feels sick.
Everything snaps into focus.
She tells him to get out, and then pushes past him, racing to her bathroom. She doesn't make it, and she vomits in the hallway.
_____
She is lying in bed on a Sunday night, phone pressed to her ear, dressed in his old McKinley jersey. She is telling him about her day--painfully boring, but she longs for conversation--when he says, "I have to go. Kinda got something planned."
"Oh," she says, and she doesn't try to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Whatever." It's not a word she uses often, and it comes out awkwardly; it doesn't fit, and it hangs off of her like a pretty girl in an ugly dress, two sizes too big for her. "I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he says, and then, "Love you."
"Love you, too," and she clicks the phone closed with a sigh.
When the door to her bedroom opens, she shrieks with surprise; and when she sees who it is, she screams--this time, with joy--as she scrambles out of bed and vaults herself across the room, into his arms.
_____
Three months later, his tour has been a success and she has just hung up the phone with the theatre.
She's on tonight. Tonight she's the star of the play. Tonight the crowd will cheer for her.
Her stomach churns as she drops her phone, and she races to the bathroom as a wave of nausea hits her violently.
_____
"Rach?"
"Yeah?"
A long beat. "Couldn't find the remote. So, I was digging through the cushions."
His voice sounds oddly strained, and she looks up from the spaghetti on the stove to glance at him. He is leaning against the fridge with his arms folded across his chest so tightly she can see his fingers digging into his bicep.
"Okay," she says slowly, thoroughly confused, "maybe it fell onto the--"
He cuts her off, "You mind explaining to me just WHAT THE FUCK this is? Cause I really don't think it's my fucking color."
He unfolds his arms to show her the silk green tie--Finn's silk green tie--in his hand. She stares at him in silent shock for a long moment; the air around them is suffocating with tension and she sees him swallow hard, trying to contain his fury. He tosses the bit of silk onto the counter next to her, and cocks his head to the side. "Well?"
Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. The silence between them is broken only by the sound of the sauce bubbling in the pan on the stove, and he licks his lips slowly, methodically, and she knows that he's trying to calm himself down.
"Finn visited while you were on tour." Her voice is tiny, but her words are heavy enough to break the air between them.
He squares his jaw and his eyes darken as turns on his heel, walking silently from the kitchen.
"Wait," she calls after him, "It's not--"
He wheels on her, breathing heavily. "Don't." He snarls, raising his hands to keep her at a distance, "Just, don't."
"Noah, it's not what you think!"
He ignores her and storms from the apartment, slamming the door so hard that the walls rattle.
_____
She doesn't sleep that night, and he doesn't come home.
_____
He finally stumbles in the door a little past 11 am, and she is sitting on the couch waiting for him.
She hears, rather then watches, him cross the room; when he is in front of her, she finally looks up at him. He looks broken, and it tears at her. She hasn't seen him look so miserable in ten years; since the day he stood next to Quinn Fabray as they handed their newborn daughter off to strangers.
"Did you have sex with him?" he asks, and his voice is so low she might not have understood him, if she didn't already know exactly what it was he would ask when he returned.
She shakes her head negatively, and he nods.
"But at some point, he became... undressed." He lets the word hang in the air between them.
She swallows hard, and takes a long moment to plan her words. "We were drunk, and I was lonely, and we kissed," she admits tightly, "not that that's any excuse."
"But... at some point, he became un-FUCKING-dressed in my home. What the fuck happened, Rachel? Did you fucking blow him or something?"
"No!" She stands to emphasize the vehemence of her words, "No, he came to town to visit us and he didn't know you weren't here and we went to dinner to catch up and I was so lonely without you and we both drank way, way too much and when he walked me home we kissed and he undid his tie and we were on the couch and he was touching me and as soon as he did it felt wrong, it felt so wrong and I told him to get out and he did and I haven't spoken to him, since." Her words tumble out of her before she can stop them, and he is staring her down with an indescribable look in his eye.
It feels like hours pass before he reaches behind him, pulling something from his back pocket. He shoves a thick handful of papers into her hands with a glare, and she is genuinely confused when he turns his back towards her and heads towards their bedroom.
"I'll just get some clothes."
She unfolds the papers in her hand, and her heart drops; she feels light-headed, and it takes all she has not to just collapse on the floor.
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage
_____
"You can't do this," she calls after him, racing to their bedroom.
He is pulling things out of the closet violently, haphazardly knocking down hangers. "I can," he says, "I did."
She throws the papers onto the bed, and wills herself to keep her breathing even. "I won't sign them."
"Rach, it's over, just let it go."
"You know I can't do that. Look, I messed up, I know that, but you are my family, I can't let that go without at least trying." She crosses the room to him, placing one of her small hands on his solid shoulder. "I love you."
He shrugs her off and turns on her, "You can't take back what happened, I can't get the image out of my head. You can't just kiss me and make it disappear. Every single time I see you I think of you and him." He rubs his hands over his face, as if trying to erase the memory. "I am so tired of being second best to that guy."
"No," she says softly, and then again with more force, "No, that's not what happened at all. Noah, I chose you, I married you. I fully admit that I royally fucked up, but we've been together ten years! It was 3 minutes of confusion."
"Just sign the papers, Rach."
There is a long moment where they just stare at each other, and it is only then that she realizes that they're both crying.
"I can't," she says weakly, and she sucks her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, because she will not use pity to hang onto her husband.
There is another long moment between them, and he throws his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I want a divorce, Rachel."
He says it with such finality she can't even bring herself to argue back as he walks out of their room. When she hears their front door slam, she can only sink to the bed.
_____
She sits in the lawyers office. He didn't even show up for their hearing.
He's moved out of their apartment.
Taken his guitar and his music and walked out of her life (along with her music).
When she sings in the mirror it sounds all wrong to her ears. He's not there to tell her that she sounds wonderful, or to tell her when she's hitting the note just a little bit sharps as she sometimes does.
She hasn't even told him that she's pregnant.
_____
She returns home from rehearsal a few nights later to find the last of his things gone.
He left the couch.
_____
Two months after Noah leaves her standing in their apartment cold, desolate and pregnant, there is a knock on the door.
She steps up from the couch where she spends most of her time sitting, staring out at nothing whenever she's not working (sometimes she remembers to eat, but that's more for the child who's living inside her than anything else) and opens the door.
"Can I come in," Finn asks, and he can't seem to meet her eyes.
She doesn't think, only steps away from the door, turning back to the couch where she sits once more.
"Look, I heard." Was she once in love with this boy? Didn't she wake up every morning hoping that one day he would come to her door just like he is now? He sits down beside her, leaving enough room between them on the small sofa so that none of his supersized limbs touch hers. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I never meant... I shouldn't have come in. I should have known better. I should have been better." He tries to reach for her hand, but she flinches and places them on her stomach. "But I..."
"Don't." She whispers the word, her throat closing painfully over the syllable. "Don't say it. I can't say it back. So just... I'm sorry, too." Sorry for screwing up his life, and her own. Sorry they never did get a chance in high school, if only to get it out of her system. Sorry that he came to her as a friend that night, a friend she'd needed, but he'd left as a co-conspirator in the destruction of her world. "Please go."
She doesn't look up even after she hears the door fall shut behind him.
_____
As her belly swells, she finds it harder to move around her apartment. She is on leave from the theatre--she can't fit into any of the costumes and she certainly isn't as agile as she once was--but they have promised her a spot once the baby is born. After all, the lead is ready to move on to bigger and better things and she really does have a fantastic voice.
This is it, she thinks, her red curtain. And he's nowhere around to enjoy it with her.
Six months along, three months since her world ended, she trips stepping out of the shower, and lands in a painful heap on the floor. She lays on the floor of her bathroom for a long time before finally finding the strength to carry herself to the living room and call for help.
Lying in the hospital bed, her entire body hurts--from the fall, and from the worry--and when her doctor asks if she should call the father, she says no.
The doctor assures her it's OK, the baby--her son--is fine, but suggests that maybe it's not a very good idea to be living alone this late into the pregnancy.
Finally, she calls her dads.
_____
(she still hasn't signed the papers)
_____
It's a big step backwards, moving back in with her dads in Lima, but the truth of the matter is there are some things she can't do for herself anymore. She can't tie her own shoe laces or even see her toes, much less touch them.
She can't reach for the pickles if they're in the back of the pantry. Can't climb up ladders without a fear of falling. Without a fear of breaking the only thing she has left in the world.
She's decided on a name. A name of the son she carries who'll have his eyes and his hair and his disposition, she's sure of it. Rylan Noah, that's who he'll be. And she'll teach him to think hard before he speaks and love with all his heart. She'll teach him how to cook and how to play.
And maybe one day she'll tell him about how much she loves his father.
____
It's been almost six months since he left, and according to the state of New York, she has six months remaining until she's legally divorced, whether she signs those papers or not.
She still has them.
She keeps them in her dresser and every now and then she pulls them out to study his signature; slanted and elegant. He's got musician's fingers, and she remembers the way they made her body sing.
She is laying in her room--still bright pink--staring at those papers when a tiny foot presses against her ribs and makes her wince.
"Knock it off," she says, glaring at her ginormous belly. Another kick. "Fine. I'll sign them."
She does sign them.
That doesn't mean she sends them.
_____
There are only a couple weeks left, and never before has she anticipated--there's her word, again--anything as much as she does her son.
Her Lamaze instructor (Quinn gave her the number) said it's a good idea to keep an emergency bag packed, so she'll be ready when the time comes. After putting it off for a good amount of time, she finally brings herself to waddle--Rachel Puckerman, waddling (she now fully understands why Quinn was so angry all the time their sophomore year)--around her bedroom, gathering her belongings, humming softly to Rylan; he stopped being "the baby" a while ago.
She folds her clothes, packs her toiletry bag, and pours her shampoo into tiny travel-sized bottles. As she is folding a bath robe, she hears her father's voice booming through the house.
"She doesn't want to see you. If she'd wanted to talk to you, she would have."
The response is quiet. Violent, obviously from her dad's next words.
"Get the FUCK OUT of my house, RIGHT NOW."
She hears stomping on the stairs and the door to her bedroom squeak open, she really should ask her father if he can oil it. She drops the robe into her bag as she inhales a familiar scent for the first time in almost seven months. He smells like home. It brings tears to her eyes and manages to calm the active boy kicking around in her belly.
She turns and looks at him with watery eyes. "I'm pregnant." She says the words she's bottled up inside her for so many months.
"I can see that," he comments from his perch by the door.
"Yeah, well, I wanted you to hear it from me."
Her father reaches her room, only slightly out of breath. "You," he starts, pointing a finger at Noah, "You need to leave."
She crosses the room as gracefully as she can when she's the size of a small mini-van and opens her dresser. "It's fine, Daddy," she says, pulling out those papers she's spent so many hours staring at. They are crinkled, worn from months of opening and refolding them. "I assume you came for these." She holds them out but doesn't move towards him.
She gives her father a look that clearly says Can you give us a moment? and he eyes them warily before speaking. "I'll be just down the hall if you need me, pumpkin." And he is gone, throwing Noah one last look over his shoulder.
They stand there for a long time, her arm outstretched, offering the divorce papers, and him leaning against her door with his arms crossed. Finally, he closes the gap between them and takes the papers, shoving them into his back pocket without looking at them.
He chuckles as he heads for the door, but it sounds too cynical, too angry--more like Puck than Noah. "I finally get you to give them to me and I don't even need them anymore."
Her hands instinctively move to her stomach; rubbing her belly has become a kind of therapy for her when she's feeling nervous. "What do you mean?" she says, though she dares not hope.
He makes a motion to her belly. "These papers didn't mention anything about a child."
He leaves without another word to her, and she doesn't realize she's crying until her father is at her side.
_____
The sun has just set when the doorbell rings. Her dads have gone out to dinner--"enjoy the last few nights of peace and quiet"--and her head is pounding so hard from crying, she considers just ignoring it.
When it rings again, and again, and again, and it's clear that whoever is at the door is not going away, she finally drags herself out of her bed and makes her way to the front door.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
She hasn't even opened the door all the way before he speaks, running one hand over his scalp (he still keeps it shaved but thank God he finally got rid of the mohawk) in aggravation.
She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, determined to keep a strong front. "You made if perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me, Noah. And I wasn't about to throw this out there in some desperate attempt to cling to our marriage." She steps aside, holding the door open to let him in, but he doesn't move.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me."
She chokes out a laugh--a short, watery sound that bubbles from her throat. "And what? I begged you to stay," she says, stabbing his chest with a finger, "You didn't want to stay when you didn't know I was pregnant, and I wasn't about to be the wife you hated, but tolerated just for the sake of the baby. I wasn't about to raise our son in a household that was barely held together by your daddy issues."
It is out of her mouth before she thinks, and she inwardly swears at herself for going there.
"Noah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"
He cuts her off, staring intently at a spot just to the left of her face. "Our son?"
She relaxes just a little, leaning on the door. "Yeah," she says softly, "His name is Rylan. Rylan Noah." There is a second where he is looking at her like he used to--but only a second, and then his eyes are shaded once more.
"When are you due?" His voice is strained, and she can't tell if he is swallowing tears or trying to keep a temper in check.
"Couple weeks."
He adjusts his weight to his other foot, stealing a glance at her belly. "I guess I'll be at Mom's, then."
_____
As it turns out, she was wrong.
Four days later, on October 21st, she finds herself clutching her stomach while her fathers rush frantically around the house. Over-night bag, ice, blankets, cell phone, and they are almost out the door before she cries out, "Call Noah," and her daddy gets on the phone while her dad leads her to the car.
Her dad sits beside her on the backseat, and he is tucking her sweaty hair behind her ears and murmuring, "Here he comes," over and over and he looks so proud that she almost smiles.
Then she has another contraction, and so she screams, instead.
_____
Noah holds her hand during the whole thing, and it's almost like it used to be. There's no time for accusatory looks or passive-aggressive comments, and instead he strokes her hair and tells her how wonderful she's doing.
After a big, final push, she relaxes against him and then there's this long, terrible minute where there's a heavy vacuum of silence; her eyes go big and she clutches his hand like a lifeline and then there is a loud slap followed by the most beautiful sound she's ever heard.
Rylan may have his father's eyes, she'll later notice, but he definitely has his mother's pipes.
_____
This is her magnum opus.
_____
She takes to motherhood like she took to the stage, and it surprises her.
But one night she's been up with Rylan all night trying to get him to feed, trying to get him to sleep, but he won't stop screaming at her. She's sung to him, held him, rocked him, bounced him, burped him, changed him and done everything else she can possibly think of or has ever read about in any one of her books. Nothing has worked.
She doesn't even hear the doorbell ring or see Noah walk in, she's so consumed by her son's needs.
She feels large hands cover hers, taking the baby away from her and she squeals mindlessly, maternal instincts kicking in.
He doesn't settle down for his father, either, and though it is petty, she feels a little glad for it. He stands in the middle of her room, looking as out of place as he did when they were sixteen, patting their sons diapered bottom and humming, staring down at him with a look of adoration that apparently, only parents can manage.
After a few minutes, he finally looks at her. "You wanna go for a ride?"
She looks at him oddly, furrowing her eyebrows. "What? Now?"
He shrugs. "My sister was a colicky baby. Sometimes a car ride helped. Rocking motion, noise of the engine, whatever."
A beat. "I'll get my dad's keys."
He scoffs as he wraps begins to wrap Rylan up in blankets. "Fuck that deathtrap, we're going in my truck."
"Watch your mouth," she chides, but otherwise doesn't complain.
_____
The first time she visits the Puckerman house, she thinks she may pass out from fear alone. After all, what has he told his family about her infidelity? She wills herself to remain composed and not lose consciousness, if only because her son is in her arms, sleeping soundly.
But when Grace--she's sure she can't call her Mom anymore--throws open the door and beams, all of her fears are subdued; she hugs her as gently as possible without disturbing the sleeping baby between them, and when she pulls away she has this look on her face that looks surprisingly like the ones her fathers give her; like the look she gives Rylan.
When she asks Grace if she wants to hold him, the older woman nearly glows with happiness and rushes off to wash her hands--"You can never be too careful!"--before she hands him over gently, careful not to wake him, and her arms feel empty and awkward as soon as he is gone.
Noah joins them a second later, and his hand finds its way to the small of her back as they watch their son with his grandmother.
She reminds herself they are maintaining appearances for his mothers sake.
_____
He comes over daily.
Her dads both work during the day, and so they spend the afternoons alone together in her big house, fumbling through the hours, learning to be parents together. He relaxes on the couch, feet up on the coffee table (her fathers would have a fit), watching her pace the living room with their son in her arms, rocking him gently.
Sometimes, he brings his guitar, and sometimes, when Rylan just won't nod off to sleep, he suggests she sings.
And sometimes, when she goes just a little sharp, he tells her.
_____
There's an art to forgiveness, and they haven't mastered that, yet.
But they will.
_____
One afternoon, her dad comes home early, and tells them to get out of the house, enjoy the crisp autumn air; he'll watch the baby.
There is a long awkward moment where she thinks Noah is going to say No, and just as she opens her mouth to tell her father she'd rather stay in, he stands up and shrugs his shoulders.
He helps her put her coat on, and when they step outside and close the door behind them, he takes a deep breath. "You don't realize how nice Ohio is until you've been gone," he says softly.
It's been a while since they've done small talk, and she's at a loss. All she can manage is a strangled, "Yeah." and they fall into silence once more.
"I miss New York, though."
"Yeah, me too."
"I even miss that shitty apartment."
He throws her a glance, and she smiles.
_____
When Finn visits on a Thursday afternoon, she is sure that it is the end to whatever precarious truce she and Noah have.
"I went to your house first," Finn starts, staring at Noah and rushing to get the words out before any damage can be done, "I heard you were in town and I went there and your sister said you were here, and so I'm here."
There is a long, brittle moment between the three of them, broken by the sound of a baby's fussing coming from the monitor and she takes the moment to excuse herself.
When she comes back downstairs, the living room is empty; through the window, she sees them leaning against Noah's truck, talking.
_____
Later that night, they introduce Finn to their son, and when he starts to tear up, Noah slaps him on the back and calls him a girl.
_____
The moment she opens the door on a cold Monday morning, she immediately knows something is off. He is standing there, his arms are folded tightly across his chest and he looks like a child about to confess to some crime. She steps aside, inviting him in, but he doesn't move.
"I hated you."
His admission causes her lips to part slightly, but he continues before she can speak.
""I hated you so much because I didn't know it was possible to let someone in like that, to let someone..." he trails off, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "All my god damned life, I felt second best to him. And then, I had you. And I had this perfect life, and we were always broke but it was perfect, even that shitty apartment. Even though we didn't have heat half the time and the tub backed up every other day, it was perfect, and it was mine and nobody elses."
He shifts his weight, and there is a long uncomfortable moment before seven months of silence starts bubbling over. "And we were going somewhere, too! God damn it, Rach, we were right there. And you ruined everything. It's like, every dream I ever had for us and you just..." he trails off again, and this time he tosses his hands up in defeat.
"Noah..." she starts, because he actually looks pained--not guarded or defensive or mad--just hurt, and she can't find the words to make it better, "Come inside."
To her immense relief, he does.
_____
They don't talk much.
He stays the night.
(she forgot how good his lips felt on hers, how his hands gripped her hips, how perfectly he fit between her legs)
_____
When she wakes up, there is a startling moment of clarity as she remembers there is a body in her bed. His body in her bed.
She lays perfectly still, holding her breath cautiously, as if waking him will send them tumbling into another tailspin. She spends a good ten minutes listening to the sound of him breathing, the feel of his hand splayed open on her belly (still a little flabby from pregnancy, she admits, but it's only been six weeks) and when she thinks of the night before, a smile crosses her face despite herself. She hears his breathing change as he starts to wake, and her heart speeds up.
"Here we are," he murmurs quietly, "ten years later, still hiding in your bedroom and hoping your dads don't find us."
"What happens now?"
He shifts, and for a terrible second she thinks he is pulling away from her; instead, he adjusts his arm under her head, groaning as he tries to wake it up.
"Dunno," he admits after a few minutes.
"I am so sorry," she says, and she feels like crying, but to be honest, these past seven months have drained her dry. So instead she looks up at him over her shoulder and he studies her face, considering his next words carefully.
"I miss New York."
"Me too," and then she sighs, "I forgot I actually have a job waiting for me when I get back."
He scoffs in disbelief. "You forgot you had a part?" and when she just laughs in response, he lowers his voice and sounds almost halfway remorseful when he says, "Congratulations."
She smiles at him, and for a fleeting second she wants to kiss him, but she's afraid to try.
And then she does it, anyways.
_____
Her world finally starts to heal on a Wednesday morning when her fathers kiss her goodbye, and remind her to visit. They fuss over the baby one last time, and then help her load all of her bags into Noah's truck, and when they start to cry just a little bit, she hugs them long and hard, until they're ready to let go.
There's a job waiting for her back in New York, and Noah's two-bedroom apartment; he'll sleep on the couch, he says, until...
The thought was left open. Ellipses, not a period.
As they sit at a red light just before the interstate, he reaches into his glove box and pulls out those papers she knows so well and her heart stops.
"I don't know what's going to happen," he says slowly, unsure, "but I know I don't want these anymore."
This is her red curtain, and she's never felt more ready.
_____
There is an art to moving on, and they've mastered it.
_____
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
And would you get them if I did?
Author: Soliloquyrain
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: R for F-Bombs.
Word Count: 5,817
Spoilers: None
Summary: Roll outta bed and down on your knees, and for a moment you can hardly breathe. There is an art to forgiveness, and they're still learning it--one moment, one mistake, and a torrent of consequences.
Author's note: Written for our Not-So-Secret-Santa fic swap. Written for Kandykanemel. I have taken your prompt and twisted, pulled, pushed, and completely turned it into something else. I hope you still enjoy it, and Happy Christmas everyone. Also, shout out to theberrifairy cause she's just got it like that.
This fic would be a steaming pile of garbage were it not for the fantastic becca_radcgg, and as such, it is most definitely dedicated to her. Thank you, so very much for all of your help. I have no words.
_____
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
the waking up is the hardest part
Her world tilts, just barely, on a Wednesday evening when he blusters into their tiny apartment, crosses the room in five long strides, and takes her in his arms.
He picks her up and twirls her, effortlessly, ignoring her shrieks and protests and when he sets her down again, he is practically aglow. He tells her to fuck cooking, put on her sexiest dress, and prepare for the time of her life, they're going to have a night on the town; he's made it, he says. He's been found.
_____
There's an art to anticipation, and they've mastered it.
Anticipating that phone call, anticipating that job offer, anticipating the day fate finally steps in and pulls back the curtain.
She's an understudy in Wicked, so close to the spotlight she can taste it in the air; he spends his evenings in smoky bars, singing songs he wrote for her in a tangled mess under their sheets from Ikea. Their apartment is tiny and they spent their first wedding anniversary in the living room with a box of pizza and old DVDs. The bills go unpaid more often than not, and they survive on cheap food and big dreams.
They're both waiting for the opening ceremony to signal the start of something bigger, but they're patient. After all, they have each other, and that's far more important to the both of them than any red curtain.
_____
They never do make it to dinner--instead he takes her against the refrigerator and then carries her to their bedroom where he spends the rest of the night whispering against her skin all of the things he's going to buy her when they're rich.
_____
She's happy for him, really, she is. She loves him more than she loves Broadway and she's not about to be so petty as to resent his breakout.
But when he tells her he's been invited to open for some up-and-coming band, her smile falters. A tour. Nine months of traveling--more, if they really take off.
"But, we'll be separated that whole time."
"Come with me."
"I can't, what about my career? I can't just up and leave the cast."
He waves away her concern and pulls her to him. "Okay, then. It's only a few months, anyways, babe. I'll call you every night. And every morning. You will not be able to escape me." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles down at her. "It'll be worth it."
_____
She finds that coming home to an empty apartment is the hardest thing she's ever had to do; it takes her a while to get used to cooking dinner for one.
_____
Time passes--months, or years, or decades, she can't tell--and it's debilitating, loneliness is.
He keeps his promise and calls every night (sometimes two or three times a day), but their calls are getting shorter. He's busy, or she's tired, and sometimes he forgets to charge his cell phone and they only have a precious few minutes before the battery gives out.
One night she is lying in bed, barely awake, when she says she should get some rest.
"Stay on the phone," he says, "I want to hear you fall asleep."
_____
Two months in, Kurt visits.
"Oh, honey," he says disdainfully, "We have got to do something about your interior decorating." He eyes the couch with disgust. "Please tell me I won't be sleeping on that."
She frowns. "Noah's mom gave us that when we got married."
"Hmmm." He notices a pair of cowboy hats hanging on the wall. "Are those...?"
"Yeah." She smiles and fingers one gingerly. "Good times."
When he leaves a week later, loneliness settles back into the corners; she sits on her couch and cries.
_____
Five months in. Their bank account is growing fast, but some nights, he forgets to call. He always apologizes the next day.
_____
Seven months in, Finn visits, and he stays at a hotel three blocks over. Though she wants to be a good hostess and invite him to stay (she'd love the company), she thinks it would be too weird for him to sleep on the same couch she and Noah have used so many times.
His third night in town, he calls to take her out to dinner; she walks with him to her door just past midnight with way too much alcohol in her system and the painful memory of the loneliness waiting for her just inside.
It takes an intense gaze and only a second of uncertainty, and she finds herself pressed against the door of her apartment with his mouth on her shoulder, his hands under her shirt.
They stumble into the apartment and across the living room, his fumbling hands tugging at his tie, pulling the buttons of his shirt open. They fall onto the couch in an uncoordinated heap, and his weight feels uncomfortable on her.
He grabs her hips as his lips find hers, and the taste is wrong, all wrong. His hands are too wide on her body, his mouth too tentative, he's too silent, focused entirely on the moment. His thumb grazes her nipple through the thin material of her bra, and she suddenly feels sick.
Everything snaps into focus.
She tells him to get out, and then pushes past him, racing to her bathroom. She doesn't make it, and she vomits in the hallway.
_____
She is lying in bed on a Sunday night, phone pressed to her ear, dressed in his old McKinley jersey. She is telling him about her day--painfully boring, but she longs for conversation--when he says, "I have to go. Kinda got something planned."
"Oh," she says, and she doesn't try to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Whatever." It's not a word she uses often, and it comes out awkwardly; it doesn't fit, and it hangs off of her like a pretty girl in an ugly dress, two sizes too big for her. "I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he says, and then, "Love you."
"Love you, too," and she clicks the phone closed with a sigh.
When the door to her bedroom opens, she shrieks with surprise; and when she sees who it is, she screams--this time, with joy--as she scrambles out of bed and vaults herself across the room, into his arms.
_____
Three months later, his tour has been a success and she has just hung up the phone with the theatre.
She's on tonight. Tonight she's the star of the play. Tonight the crowd will cheer for her.
Her stomach churns as she drops her phone, and she races to the bathroom as a wave of nausea hits her violently.
_____
"Rach?"
"Yeah?"
A long beat. "Couldn't find the remote. So, I was digging through the cushions."
His voice sounds oddly strained, and she looks up from the spaghetti on the stove to glance at him. He is leaning against the fridge with his arms folded across his chest so tightly she can see his fingers digging into his bicep.
"Okay," she says slowly, thoroughly confused, "maybe it fell onto the--"
He cuts her off, "You mind explaining to me just WHAT THE FUCK this is? Cause I really don't think it's my fucking color."
He unfolds his arms to show her the silk green tie--Finn's silk green tie--in his hand. She stares at him in silent shock for a long moment; the air around them is suffocating with tension and she sees him swallow hard, trying to contain his fury. He tosses the bit of silk onto the counter next to her, and cocks his head to the side. "Well?"
Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. The silence between them is broken only by the sound of the sauce bubbling in the pan on the stove, and he licks his lips slowly, methodically, and she knows that he's trying to calm himself down.
"Finn visited while you were on tour." Her voice is tiny, but her words are heavy enough to break the air between them.
He squares his jaw and his eyes darken as turns on his heel, walking silently from the kitchen.
"Wait," she calls after him, "It's not--"
He wheels on her, breathing heavily. "Don't." He snarls, raising his hands to keep her at a distance, "Just, don't."
"Noah, it's not what you think!"
He ignores her and storms from the apartment, slamming the door so hard that the walls rattle.
_____
She doesn't sleep that night, and he doesn't come home.
_____
He finally stumbles in the door a little past 11 am, and she is sitting on the couch waiting for him.
She hears, rather then watches, him cross the room; when he is in front of her, she finally looks up at him. He looks broken, and it tears at her. She hasn't seen him look so miserable in ten years; since the day he stood next to Quinn Fabray as they handed their newborn daughter off to strangers.
"Did you have sex with him?" he asks, and his voice is so low she might not have understood him, if she didn't already know exactly what it was he would ask when he returned.
She shakes her head negatively, and he nods.
"But at some point, he became... undressed." He lets the word hang in the air between them.
She swallows hard, and takes a long moment to plan her words. "We were drunk, and I was lonely, and we kissed," she admits tightly, "not that that's any excuse."
"But... at some point, he became un-FUCKING-dressed in my home. What the fuck happened, Rachel? Did you fucking blow him or something?"
"No!" She stands to emphasize the vehemence of her words, "No, he came to town to visit us and he didn't know you weren't here and we went to dinner to catch up and I was so lonely without you and we both drank way, way too much and when he walked me home we kissed and he undid his tie and we were on the couch and he was touching me and as soon as he did it felt wrong, it felt so wrong and I told him to get out and he did and I haven't spoken to him, since." Her words tumble out of her before she can stop them, and he is staring her down with an indescribable look in his eye.
It feels like hours pass before he reaches behind him, pulling something from his back pocket. He shoves a thick handful of papers into her hands with a glare, and she is genuinely confused when he turns his back towards her and heads towards their bedroom.
"I'll just get some clothes."
She unfolds the papers in her hand, and her heart drops; she feels light-headed, and it takes all she has not to just collapse on the floor.
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage
_____
"You can't do this," she calls after him, racing to their bedroom.
He is pulling things out of the closet violently, haphazardly knocking down hangers. "I can," he says, "I did."
She throws the papers onto the bed, and wills herself to keep her breathing even. "I won't sign them."
"Rach, it's over, just let it go."
"You know I can't do that. Look, I messed up, I know that, but you are my family, I can't let that go without at least trying." She crosses the room to him, placing one of her small hands on his solid shoulder. "I love you."
He shrugs her off and turns on her, "You can't take back what happened, I can't get the image out of my head. You can't just kiss me and make it disappear. Every single time I see you I think of you and him." He rubs his hands over his face, as if trying to erase the memory. "I am so tired of being second best to that guy."
"No," she says softly, and then again with more force, "No, that's not what happened at all. Noah, I chose you, I married you. I fully admit that I royally fucked up, but we've been together ten years! It was 3 minutes of confusion."
"Just sign the papers, Rach."
There is a long moment where they just stare at each other, and it is only then that she realizes that they're both crying.
"I can't," she says weakly, and she sucks her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, because she will not use pity to hang onto her husband.
There is another long moment between them, and he throws his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I want a divorce, Rachel."
He says it with such finality she can't even bring herself to argue back as he walks out of their room. When she hears their front door slam, she can only sink to the bed.
_____
She sits in the lawyers office. He didn't even show up for their hearing.
He's moved out of their apartment.
Taken his guitar and his music and walked out of her life (along with her music).
When she sings in the mirror it sounds all wrong to her ears. He's not there to tell her that she sounds wonderful, or to tell her when she's hitting the note just a little bit sharps as she sometimes does.
She hasn't even told him that she's pregnant.
_____
She returns home from rehearsal a few nights later to find the last of his things gone.
He left the couch.
_____
Two months after Noah leaves her standing in their apartment cold, desolate and pregnant, there is a knock on the door.
She steps up from the couch where she spends most of her time sitting, staring out at nothing whenever she's not working (sometimes she remembers to eat, but that's more for the child who's living inside her than anything else) and opens the door.
"Can I come in," Finn asks, and he can't seem to meet her eyes.
She doesn't think, only steps away from the door, turning back to the couch where she sits once more.
"Look, I heard." Was she once in love with this boy? Didn't she wake up every morning hoping that one day he would come to her door just like he is now? He sits down beside her, leaving enough room between them on the small sofa so that none of his supersized limbs touch hers. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I never meant... I shouldn't have come in. I should have known better. I should have been better." He tries to reach for her hand, but she flinches and places them on her stomach. "But I..."
"Don't." She whispers the word, her throat closing painfully over the syllable. "Don't say it. I can't say it back. So just... I'm sorry, too." Sorry for screwing up his life, and her own. Sorry they never did get a chance in high school, if only to get it out of her system. Sorry that he came to her as a friend that night, a friend she'd needed, but he'd left as a co-conspirator in the destruction of her world. "Please go."
She doesn't look up even after she hears the door fall shut behind him.
_____
As her belly swells, she finds it harder to move around her apartment. She is on leave from the theatre--she can't fit into any of the costumes and she certainly isn't as agile as she once was--but they have promised her a spot once the baby is born. After all, the lead is ready to move on to bigger and better things and she really does have a fantastic voice.
This is it, she thinks, her red curtain. And he's nowhere around to enjoy it with her.
Six months along, three months since her world ended, she trips stepping out of the shower, and lands in a painful heap on the floor. She lays on the floor of her bathroom for a long time before finally finding the strength to carry herself to the living room and call for help.
Lying in the hospital bed, her entire body hurts--from the fall, and from the worry--and when her doctor asks if she should call the father, she says no.
The doctor assures her it's OK, the baby--her son--is fine, but suggests that maybe it's not a very good idea to be living alone this late into the pregnancy.
Finally, she calls her dads.
_____
(she still hasn't signed the papers)
_____
It's a big step backwards, moving back in with her dads in Lima, but the truth of the matter is there are some things she can't do for herself anymore. She can't tie her own shoe laces or even see her toes, much less touch them.
She can't reach for the pickles if they're in the back of the pantry. Can't climb up ladders without a fear of falling. Without a fear of breaking the only thing she has left in the world.
She's decided on a name. A name of the son she carries who'll have his eyes and his hair and his disposition, she's sure of it. Rylan Noah, that's who he'll be. And she'll teach him to think hard before he speaks and love with all his heart. She'll teach him how to cook and how to play.
And maybe one day she'll tell him about how much she loves his father.
____
It's been almost six months since he left, and according to the state of New York, she has six months remaining until she's legally divorced, whether she signs those papers or not.
She still has them.
She keeps them in her dresser and every now and then she pulls them out to study his signature; slanted and elegant. He's got musician's fingers, and she remembers the way they made her body sing.
She is laying in her room--still bright pink--staring at those papers when a tiny foot presses against her ribs and makes her wince.
"Knock it off," she says, glaring at her ginormous belly. Another kick. "Fine. I'll sign them."
She does sign them.
That doesn't mean she sends them.
_____
There are only a couple weeks left, and never before has she anticipated--there's her word, again--anything as much as she does her son.
Her Lamaze instructor (Quinn gave her the number) said it's a good idea to keep an emergency bag packed, so she'll be ready when the time comes. After putting it off for a good amount of time, she finally brings herself to waddle--Rachel Puckerman, waddling (she now fully understands why Quinn was so angry all the time their sophomore year)--around her bedroom, gathering her belongings, humming softly to Rylan; he stopped being "the baby" a while ago.
She folds her clothes, packs her toiletry bag, and pours her shampoo into tiny travel-sized bottles. As she is folding a bath robe, she hears her father's voice booming through the house.
"She doesn't want to see you. If she'd wanted to talk to you, she would have."
The response is quiet. Violent, obviously from her dad's next words.
"Get the FUCK OUT of my house, RIGHT NOW."
She hears stomping on the stairs and the door to her bedroom squeak open, she really should ask her father if he can oil it. She drops the robe into her bag as she inhales a familiar scent for the first time in almost seven months. He smells like home. It brings tears to her eyes and manages to calm the active boy kicking around in her belly.
She turns and looks at him with watery eyes. "I'm pregnant." She says the words she's bottled up inside her for so many months.
"I can see that," he comments from his perch by the door.
"Yeah, well, I wanted you to hear it from me."
Her father reaches her room, only slightly out of breath. "You," he starts, pointing a finger at Noah, "You need to leave."
She crosses the room as gracefully as she can when she's the size of a small mini-van and opens her dresser. "It's fine, Daddy," she says, pulling out those papers she's spent so many hours staring at. They are crinkled, worn from months of opening and refolding them. "I assume you came for these." She holds them out but doesn't move towards him.
She gives her father a look that clearly says Can you give us a moment? and he eyes them warily before speaking. "I'll be just down the hall if you need me, pumpkin." And he is gone, throwing Noah one last look over his shoulder.
They stand there for a long time, her arm outstretched, offering the divorce papers, and him leaning against her door with his arms crossed. Finally, he closes the gap between them and takes the papers, shoving them into his back pocket without looking at them.
He chuckles as he heads for the door, but it sounds too cynical, too angry--more like Puck than Noah. "I finally get you to give them to me and I don't even need them anymore."
Her hands instinctively move to her stomach; rubbing her belly has become a kind of therapy for her when she's feeling nervous. "What do you mean?" she says, though she dares not hope.
He makes a motion to her belly. "These papers didn't mention anything about a child."
He leaves without another word to her, and she doesn't realize she's crying until her father is at her side.
_____
The sun has just set when the doorbell rings. Her dads have gone out to dinner--"enjoy the last few nights of peace and quiet"--and her head is pounding so hard from crying, she considers just ignoring it.
When it rings again, and again, and again, and it's clear that whoever is at the door is not going away, she finally drags herself out of her bed and makes her way to the front door.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
She hasn't even opened the door all the way before he speaks, running one hand over his scalp (he still keeps it shaved but thank God he finally got rid of the mohawk) in aggravation.
She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, determined to keep a strong front. "You made if perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me, Noah. And I wasn't about to throw this out there in some desperate attempt to cling to our marriage." She steps aside, holding the door open to let him in, but he doesn't move.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me."
She chokes out a laugh--a short, watery sound that bubbles from her throat. "And what? I begged you to stay," she says, stabbing his chest with a finger, "You didn't want to stay when you didn't know I was pregnant, and I wasn't about to be the wife you hated, but tolerated just for the sake of the baby. I wasn't about to raise our son in a household that was barely held together by your daddy issues."
It is out of her mouth before she thinks, and she inwardly swears at herself for going there.
"Noah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"
He cuts her off, staring intently at a spot just to the left of her face. "Our son?"
She relaxes just a little, leaning on the door. "Yeah," she says softly, "His name is Rylan. Rylan Noah." There is a second where he is looking at her like he used to--but only a second, and then his eyes are shaded once more.
"When are you due?" His voice is strained, and she can't tell if he is swallowing tears or trying to keep a temper in check.
"Couple weeks."
He adjusts his weight to his other foot, stealing a glance at her belly. "I guess I'll be at Mom's, then."
_____
As it turns out, she was wrong.
Four days later, on October 21st, she finds herself clutching her stomach while her fathers rush frantically around the house. Over-night bag, ice, blankets, cell phone, and they are almost out the door before she cries out, "Call Noah," and her daddy gets on the phone while her dad leads her to the car.
Her dad sits beside her on the backseat, and he is tucking her sweaty hair behind her ears and murmuring, "Here he comes," over and over and he looks so proud that she almost smiles.
Then she has another contraction, and so she screams, instead.
_____
Noah holds her hand during the whole thing, and it's almost like it used to be. There's no time for accusatory looks or passive-aggressive comments, and instead he strokes her hair and tells her how wonderful she's doing.
After a big, final push, she relaxes against him and then there's this long, terrible minute where there's a heavy vacuum of silence; her eyes go big and she clutches his hand like a lifeline and then there is a loud slap followed by the most beautiful sound she's ever heard.
Rylan may have his father's eyes, she'll later notice, but he definitely has his mother's pipes.
_____
This is her magnum opus.
_____
She takes to motherhood like she took to the stage, and it surprises her.
But one night she's been up with Rylan all night trying to get him to feed, trying to get him to sleep, but he won't stop screaming at her. She's sung to him, held him, rocked him, bounced him, burped him, changed him and done everything else she can possibly think of or has ever read about in any one of her books. Nothing has worked.
She doesn't even hear the doorbell ring or see Noah walk in, she's so consumed by her son's needs.
She feels large hands cover hers, taking the baby away from her and she squeals mindlessly, maternal instincts kicking in.
He doesn't settle down for his father, either, and though it is petty, she feels a little glad for it. He stands in the middle of her room, looking as out of place as he did when they were sixteen, patting their sons diapered bottom and humming, staring down at him with a look of adoration that apparently, only parents can manage.
After a few minutes, he finally looks at her. "You wanna go for a ride?"
She looks at him oddly, furrowing her eyebrows. "What? Now?"
He shrugs. "My sister was a colicky baby. Sometimes a car ride helped. Rocking motion, noise of the engine, whatever."
A beat. "I'll get my dad's keys."
He scoffs as he wraps begins to wrap Rylan up in blankets. "Fuck that deathtrap, we're going in my truck."
"Watch your mouth," she chides, but otherwise doesn't complain.
_____
The first time she visits the Puckerman house, she thinks she may pass out from fear alone. After all, what has he told his family about her infidelity? She wills herself to remain composed and not lose consciousness, if only because her son is in her arms, sleeping soundly.
But when Grace--she's sure she can't call her Mom anymore--throws open the door and beams, all of her fears are subdued; she hugs her as gently as possible without disturbing the sleeping baby between them, and when she pulls away she has this look on her face that looks surprisingly like the ones her fathers give her; like the look she gives Rylan.
When she asks Grace if she wants to hold him, the older woman nearly glows with happiness and rushes off to wash her hands--"You can never be too careful!"--before she hands him over gently, careful not to wake him, and her arms feel empty and awkward as soon as he is gone.
Noah joins them a second later, and his hand finds its way to the small of her back as they watch their son with his grandmother.
She reminds herself they are maintaining appearances for his mothers sake.
_____
He comes over daily.
Her dads both work during the day, and so they spend the afternoons alone together in her big house, fumbling through the hours, learning to be parents together. He relaxes on the couch, feet up on the coffee table (her fathers would have a fit), watching her pace the living room with their son in her arms, rocking him gently.
Sometimes, he brings his guitar, and sometimes, when Rylan just won't nod off to sleep, he suggests she sings.
And sometimes, when she goes just a little sharp, he tells her.
_____
There's an art to forgiveness, and they haven't mastered that, yet.
But they will.
_____
One afternoon, her dad comes home early, and tells them to get out of the house, enjoy the crisp autumn air; he'll watch the baby.
There is a long awkward moment where she thinks Noah is going to say No, and just as she opens her mouth to tell her father she'd rather stay in, he stands up and shrugs his shoulders.
He helps her put her coat on, and when they step outside and close the door behind them, he takes a deep breath. "You don't realize how nice Ohio is until you've been gone," he says softly.
It's been a while since they've done small talk, and she's at a loss. All she can manage is a strangled, "Yeah." and they fall into silence once more.
"I miss New York, though."
"Yeah, me too."
"I even miss that shitty apartment."
He throws her a glance, and she smiles.
_____
When Finn visits on a Thursday afternoon, she is sure that it is the end to whatever precarious truce she and Noah have.
"I went to your house first," Finn starts, staring at Noah and rushing to get the words out before any damage can be done, "I heard you were in town and I went there and your sister said you were here, and so I'm here."
There is a long, brittle moment between the three of them, broken by the sound of a baby's fussing coming from the monitor and she takes the moment to excuse herself.
When she comes back downstairs, the living room is empty; through the window, she sees them leaning against Noah's truck, talking.
_____
Later that night, they introduce Finn to their son, and when he starts to tear up, Noah slaps him on the back and calls him a girl.
_____
The moment she opens the door on a cold Monday morning, she immediately knows something is off. He is standing there, his arms are folded tightly across his chest and he looks like a child about to confess to some crime. She steps aside, inviting him in, but he doesn't move.
"I hated you."
His admission causes her lips to part slightly, but he continues before she can speak.
""I hated you so much because I didn't know it was possible to let someone in like that, to let someone..." he trails off, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "All my god damned life, I felt second best to him. And then, I had you. And I had this perfect life, and we were always broke but it was perfect, even that shitty apartment. Even though we didn't have heat half the time and the tub backed up every other day, it was perfect, and it was mine and nobody elses."
He shifts his weight, and there is a long uncomfortable moment before seven months of silence starts bubbling over. "And we were going somewhere, too! God damn it, Rach, we were right there. And you ruined everything. It's like, every dream I ever had for us and you just..." he trails off again, and this time he tosses his hands up in defeat.
"Noah..." she starts, because he actually looks pained--not guarded or defensive or mad--just hurt, and she can't find the words to make it better, "Come inside."
To her immense relief, he does.
_____
They don't talk much.
He stays the night.
(she forgot how good his lips felt on hers, how his hands gripped her hips, how perfectly he fit between her legs)
_____
When she wakes up, there is a startling moment of clarity as she remembers there is a body in her bed. His body in her bed.
She lays perfectly still, holding her breath cautiously, as if waking him will send them tumbling into another tailspin. She spends a good ten minutes listening to the sound of him breathing, the feel of his hand splayed open on her belly (still a little flabby from pregnancy, she admits, but it's only been six weeks) and when she thinks of the night before, a smile crosses her face despite herself. She hears his breathing change as he starts to wake, and her heart speeds up.
"Here we are," he murmurs quietly, "ten years later, still hiding in your bedroom and hoping your dads don't find us."
"What happens now?"
He shifts, and for a terrible second she thinks he is pulling away from her; instead, he adjusts his arm under her head, groaning as he tries to wake it up.
"Dunno," he admits after a few minutes.
"I am so sorry," she says, and she feels like crying, but to be honest, these past seven months have drained her dry. So instead she looks up at him over her shoulder and he studies her face, considering his next words carefully.
"I miss New York."
"Me too," and then she sighs, "I forgot I actually have a job waiting for me when I get back."
He scoffs in disbelief. "You forgot you had a part?" and when she just laughs in response, he lowers his voice and sounds almost halfway remorseful when he says, "Congratulations."
She smiles at him, and for a fleeting second she wants to kiss him, but she's afraid to try.
And then she does it, anyways.
_____
Her world finally starts to heal on a Wednesday morning when her fathers kiss her goodbye, and remind her to visit. They fuss over the baby one last time, and then help her load all of her bags into Noah's truck, and when they start to cry just a little bit, she hugs them long and hard, until they're ready to let go.
There's a job waiting for her back in New York, and Noah's two-bedroom apartment; he'll sleep on the couch, he says, until...
The thought was left open. Ellipses, not a period.
As they sit at a red light just before the interstate, he reaches into his glove box and pulls out those papers she knows so well and her heart stops.
"I don't know what's going to happen," he says slowly, unsure, "but I know I don't want these anymore."
This is her red curtain, and she's never felt more ready.
_____
There is an art to moving on, and they've mastered it.
_____
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
And would you get them if I did?