fourteen, 1/2 (glee - rachel/jesse)
Title: Fourteen (part one)
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Rachel/Jesse, with appearances by New Directions.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Rachel and Jesse, spanning 14 years. Future!fic.
Notes: ~3800 words total. Spoilers for all of season 1. For
(prompt under the cut), and the prompt fourteen by jaciira1323 , who, by the way, is amazing. Sorry in advance for the angst, and the abuse of brackets & italics. Also, I don't know a clue about NY/theatre, so sorry if that's a bit shady. First part(s) originally here.
29. Deck the tree with false blossoms. Tying silk blossoms on a dead tree gives the illusion that the tree is healthy. Through the use of artifice and disguise, make something of no value appear valuable; something of no threat appear dangerous; something of no use appear useful.
-
one.
One year later, and Rachel Berry is winning Nationals for her team like she is born to (maybe she was). At the back of the auditorium, Jesse looks on with a wry smile as Rachel, with the help of Finn (it was always him, wasn't it?), hoists the trophy as high as they can, one side lopsided.
They look ecstatic.
She doesn't notice him, in the end. A part of him wants her to look up and see him (leave Finn behind and forgive me, god please forgive me), but another part tells him that maybe it's better this way. So he slips out of the auditorium not long after the winner is announced, and can't help but feel relieved that he still knows Rachel Berry (maybe more than she understands); that she would pick up the pieces he left behind and turn it into something beautiful.
-
two.
He transfers to Tisch the next year; after all, he can't pursue a Broadway career in LA, can he? For the first time since Vocal Adrenaline (because they were his team and not all of them were soulless automatons, contrary to popular belief), he feels like he belongs.
He tries not to think of Rachel Berry and her strawberry shampoo, or her gold stars, or the time when they got caught by her dads making out on her bed.
Which is ironic really, since he draws from her a lot when acting (he wonders whether she’s ever considered that).
-
three.
He knows she's out of school, by now. He wonders whether she stays in Lima (yeah right), or if she won a scholarship to some prestigious art school, or maybe (and a part of him is hoping this), she comes to New York to study, or make it big on Broadway (he's almost running out of excuses).
He's almost disappointed when he doesn't see her at Tisch (it doesn't stop him looking).
-
four.
It's four years since Vocal Adrenaline takes Nationals, and now Jesse St. James has a lead role on stage. Sure, it's a college production (it's no Broadway), but he's getting somewhere.
As he embodies his character (perfectly, if he does say so himself - and he does, jokingly, afterward, though the remark lacks his adolescent arrogance), there's a moment where he thinks that maybe he sees her in the crowd, amongst the dark blur of faces, looking up at him with that same face he remembers from years ago.
(When he's offstage, he peeks out at the audience just to make sure. It isn't her.
It happens again, months later. It still isn’t her. He thinks he should’ve expected that.)
He graduates that year, and when he gets a supporting role in an off-Broadway production, beneath the happiness, he feels relief, that maybe this was all worth it.
-
five.
The off-Broadway production becomes a Broadway musical at the beginning of the year, and a part of him is damn smug about originating a role that would hopefully be remembered for years. Thousands of people come to see the show each week, and it’s especially now that he remembers why he loves performing, singing in front of a crowd, being someone else (anyone else but Jesse St. James) for a while.
She does come to see the musical, one night. He doesn’t realise until after (because though he sees her, he was wrong the first two times, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up), when the whole cast comes up on stage for their curtain call. He sees her looking up at him, expression blank; he’s still not sure how he finds her eyes through the hundreds in the auditorium, but he does, and damn, she meets his eyes like he never hurt her.
His smile slips, for a second, and for the first time in a while, he has to remind himself to put on his ‘show face’.
After, he redresses as quickly as he can and when he reaches the stage door area, he scans every face this time, looking for her in between signing Playbills.
She isn’t there (again. It’s the third time, now, but he never fails to be disappointed).
-
The musical gets nominated eight times at the Tony Awards that year (he’s nominated once). They take home five (he takes home none. But he doesn’t mind - he knows he’s lucky for the nomination alone).
She watches from her flat a couple of blocks away, as the company walks up on stage, huge smiles and all looking like a million dollars. Her roommate asks her “Why do you care so much?” after Rachel tells her, sharply, to shut up so she can hear the speeches; for a second, she’s thrown by the question.
“I- I knew him,” she finally blurts out. This moment is two years in the making, and Rachel Berry finally cracks.
“What?”
“Jesse St. James. I dated him in high school.”
“You dated Jesse St. James? The guy we saw last month in a musical that just got five Tony Awards - which you never even mentioned, until now?”
Rachel sighs (she already regrets mentioning anything), glancing at the TV screen again, but the credits start rolling, signalling the end of the program. “It’s a long story.”
Her roommate gives her an incredulous look that’s more ‘I can’t believe you never told me’ than ‘I can’t believe you dated Jesse St. fucking James’. “Honey, right now, I am practically made of time.”
-
six.
Six years and several small productions and little roles later, Rachel Berry finally makes it in the real world. It’s a small role; nothing of her dream (an inevitability, something whispers in her mind that sounds so much like him), but she has to start somewhere. She’s 22; it gets her name into the business, and that’s how she ends up at an audition for a Broadway revival of Oklahoma!
She doesn’t get the part.
She ends up being the understudy.
Rachel briefly sees her name in lights when she becomes the lead whilst Ellie goes to a wedding. She takes the stage like she is born to (and maybe she always was). She loves the instant gratification that she gets from performing to an audience, she loves singing every day, and she loves becoming someone else. Some of the cast and crew look at her differently after, like she’s a different person than when she auditioned. She can’t figure out if that’s a good thing.
When Ellie comes back, she gives the role back, graciously.
(Giving back her dream role is like looking into the sun; when she looks away, she’s blinded by its brightness, an imprint of maybes and what could’ve beens on the inside of her eyelid)
-
He doesn’t live that far away from her, he realises. One day he even sees her walking into that coffee shop opposite his apartment block. It’s a complete shock; he drops the old Queen record he’s holding, and just stares outside his window where the swish of dark brown hair has disappeared through the door (she’s let it grown. He likes it).
A minute later, he’s just about mustered enough courage to ‘accidentally’ bump into her, when he sees Finn Hudson walk through the doors (this time he drops his phone onto the soft carpet).
Half an hour later, the two of them walk out. Her hand is slipped under his arm, and they’re laughing.
Laughing.
It takes him a second to realise he’s jealous. He knows he shouldn’t be; he doesn’t even know Rachel anymore. That week, he goes on his first date since he’s he first started his Broadway debut - a real date, with a restaurant and typical first-date flirting; the whole works. He picks her up at seven, and he smiles because she’s wearing a pretty dress, and they make easy conversation over the cheesy candlelit dinner. Her name is Melanie; she’s blonde, likes alternative music, and majors in psychology. She doesn’t know who he is, not really (she thinks she’s heard of him and definitely knows the musical he’s in, but New York is a big city, and she’s not part of that scene). Jesse thinks that maybe this is why he’s drawn to her.
It’s the first time he doesn’t compare her to Rachel, and it’s the first time since her that he falls in love (at some point, he stops looking out the window for the girl with the long brown hair).
It’s easy with Mel. She moulds to him; he doesn’t have to try so much. It’s easy (and maybe that’s the point). But though they spend time at each other’s apartments, they never move in with each other. They never breach the subject.
(Rachel meets up with Finn that day because he’s in town for a few days. They’re not together and she hasn’t had a serious boyfriend since college. Finn flirts with her, but not seriously - they’ve both moved on. Rachel’s still appreciative of his efforts.)
-
seven.
Just months into their run, some of the principals in Oklahoma! step down.
She auditions again, and the role of Laurey is given to her.
(Singing Don’t Cry For Me Argentina in front of a sold-out crowd isn’t a dream; it’s an inevitability.)
After the initial happiness calms down, there’s this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, that something is missing; she hasn’t felt this since she last talked to Finn. It’s small, though, and she brushes it away without a second thought.
-
It’s February, and Jesse ends it with Melanie when he realises he’s playing a role again. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he tells himself. He realises he’s not in love with her anymore; he loves her like he loves performing, like he loves singing, not like he loved (loves?) Rachel. Melanie’s smart. She’s felt it coming for a while now, but she’s held onto him until she finally feels him slip away.
There truly are no hard feelings between them; they’re still friends. No hearts are completely broken (but it still hurts like hell). When they stop seeing each other, they almost drop off each other’s radar completely (because New York is a big city remember, and she’s not part of that scene), but every now and then they’ll meet up at that coffee shop across from his apartment block, and it’ll be like they never broke up.
Melanie talks him through the decision to leave the musical he’s spent the last two and a half years with; ultimately it’s his decision, there will be other roles he’s offered, and he’s destined for even greater things (it’s in these moments that they become the closest; when they’ve made the decision to be friends and not lovers).
-
One day, they go to see Oklahoma! again, when he finds out there’s a new stunning young ingénue playing Laurey. When he sees her up on the stage, it’s like he’s eighteen again and foolish; she sings and he feels as if it’s only for him.
Melanie doesn’t ask him about it, just gives him a look that says so she’s the one.
-
Early in the morning one day, just when he realises he’s looking out the window again, like a year ago when he found out that Rachel frequented the café across from his apartment block, the woman in question walks into his view. She’s gone so quickly through the doors that he almost thinks that he imagined it. In fact, he’s almost convinced himself this as he pulls on jeans and the nearest t-shirt he can find, bolting down the stairs and across the road to psyche himself down and calmly walk through the doors.
“Could I get an iced coffee?” he manages to say, the order being the first thing that he can think of; he forces himself not to look for her. In forced composure, he hands over his money and gives his name to the cashier, stuffing the change back into his pocket. He still freezes when he hears a small voice from slightly behind him, and her voice is like the promise of something familiar that he hasn’t quite let go of-
“Jesse?”
He turns around, slowly, heart thumping loudly in his ears. “Rachel?”
“I-”
He stares at her, like he hasn’t seen her in Oklahoma! weeks ago. She’s taller, now, just a little bit (though in retrospect, maybe that was due to the dark ankle boots). She’s ditched the high waist skirts and animal sweaters for washed-out skinny jeans and a blazer, and he can’t say that it doesn’t suit her. But she has a flowery top underneath, and something about her lack of makeup, the way her hair falls below her shoulders, is very Rachel Berry.
He’s imagined this moment a thousand times over; in some versions, she’d scream and lash out at him, asking him why, and he’d try to tell her how he’s sorry, but she won’t give him the time of day and storm away from him. In other versions, they’d embrace like old friends and talk calmly at each other.
(It doesn’t prepare him for this.)
“Hi,” he says, momentarily lost for words.
“Um, ‘Jesse’?” The teenage cashier decides to interrupt at this point, saying something about his ready coffee, and adding an off-hand snarky remark not-quite under his breath, about ignorant Broadway stars and their choices of beverages. Jesse takes the drink with an amused smile; it’s a bit contradictory, that the teenager is familiar with musical theatre enough to recognise (and apparently dislike) actors on Broadway.
His smile fades slightly, as he turns back to Rachel. She’s still standing there, maybe a little in shock, and he gestures towards a table near the window, clear of other people. She follows him silently, and he’s actually not sure if he’d prefer she’d lash out at him or start yelling, rather than this calm, cold silence.
“Rachel Berry, it’s been a while,” he says with a smile and some of old St. James charm.
“Jesse,” she murmurs back, and he can’t help but love the way her mouth curls around his name, like-
He clears his throat. “Er, how have you been?”
“I’ve… It’s been good.”
She’s looking down at the paper cup, hands wrapped around it like she’s cold. He frowns at her unresponsiveness. “I saw you in Oklahoma! the other week. You were amazing.”
She finally looks up into his eyes, and she starts to smile (and damn if he doesn’t remember how beautiful she is when she smiles). “I saw you, too. A while ago. You were nominated for a Tony!”
He smiles back in relief. “Yeah, I was,” he says, careful not to sound too smug.
“In my opinion, Tommy Clayne didn’t deserve it. Maybe Jake Hussey, if not you, but definitely not Tom Clayne. I mean, I saw him about a month ago, and he wasn’t nearly as good as he’s hyped up to be. You,” she pauses, pink dusting her cheeks for the first time, as she realises she’s been rambling, “were much better.”
Something in him warms as she’s talking. “Thanks,” is all he can say. Then, “This is bizarre.”
She ducks her head, taking a sip of her drink.
He breathes out slowly, looking at her. “I missed you, Rachel Berry.”
Something in her eyes flickers, and the next thing he knows is she’s standing up, muttering an “I can’t do this” and flying out the door before he can say anything else. He’s left there, mind reeling from what just happened.
(The thing is, she’s not ready to talk to him, to open up what she thought she had closed seven years ago; she sees something in Jesse’s eyes that day, and it scares her.)
-
PART 2.
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Rachel/Jesse, with appearances by New Directions.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Rachel and Jesse, spanning 14 years. Future!fic.
Notes: ~3800 words total. Spoilers for all of season 1. For
(prompt under the cut), and the prompt fourteen by jaciira1323 , who, by the way, is amazing. Sorry in advance for the angst, and the abuse of brackets & italics. Also, I don't know a clue about NY/theatre, so sorry if that's a bit shady. First part(s) originally here.
29. Deck the tree with false blossoms. Tying silk blossoms on a dead tree gives the illusion that the tree is healthy. Through the use of artifice and disguise, make something of no value appear valuable; something of no threat appear dangerous; something of no use appear useful.
-
one.
One year later, and Rachel Berry is winning Nationals for her team like she is born to (maybe she was). At the back of the auditorium, Jesse looks on with a wry smile as Rachel, with the help of Finn (it was always him, wasn't it?), hoists the trophy as high as they can, one side lopsided.
They look ecstatic.
She doesn't notice him, in the end. A part of him wants her to look up and see him (leave Finn behind and forgive me, god please forgive me), but another part tells him that maybe it's better this way. So he slips out of the auditorium not long after the winner is announced, and can't help but feel relieved that he still knows Rachel Berry (maybe more than she understands); that she would pick up the pieces he left behind and turn it into something beautiful.
-
two.
He transfers to Tisch the next year; after all, he can't pursue a Broadway career in LA, can he? For the first time since Vocal Adrenaline (because they were his team and not all of them were soulless automatons, contrary to popular belief), he feels like he belongs.
He tries not to think of Rachel Berry and her strawberry shampoo, or her gold stars, or the time when they got caught by her dads making out on her bed.
Which is ironic really, since he draws from her a lot when acting (he wonders whether she’s ever considered that).
-
three.
He knows she's out of school, by now. He wonders whether she stays in Lima (yeah right), or if she won a scholarship to some prestigious art school, or maybe (and a part of him is hoping this), she comes to New York to study, or make it big on Broadway (he's almost running out of excuses).
He's almost disappointed when he doesn't see her at Tisch (it doesn't stop him looking).
-
four.
It's four years since Vocal Adrenaline takes Nationals, and now Jesse St. James has a lead role on stage. Sure, it's a college production (it's no Broadway), but he's getting somewhere.
As he embodies his character (perfectly, if he does say so himself - and he does, jokingly, afterward, though the remark lacks his adolescent arrogance), there's a moment where he thinks that maybe he sees her in the crowd, amongst the dark blur of faces, looking up at him with that same face he remembers from years ago.
(When he's offstage, he peeks out at the audience just to make sure. It isn't her.
It happens again, months later. It still isn’t her. He thinks he should’ve expected that.)
He graduates that year, and when he gets a supporting role in an off-Broadway production, beneath the happiness, he feels relief, that maybe this was all worth it.
-
five.
The off-Broadway production becomes a Broadway musical at the beginning of the year, and a part of him is damn smug about originating a role that would hopefully be remembered for years. Thousands of people come to see the show each week, and it’s especially now that he remembers why he loves performing, singing in front of a crowd, being someone else (anyone else but Jesse St. James) for a while.
She does come to see the musical, one night. He doesn’t realise until after (because though he sees her, he was wrong the first two times, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up), when the whole cast comes up on stage for their curtain call. He sees her looking up at him, expression blank; he’s still not sure how he finds her eyes through the hundreds in the auditorium, but he does, and damn, she meets his eyes like he never hurt her.
His smile slips, for a second, and for the first time in a while, he has to remind himself to put on his ‘show face’.
After, he redresses as quickly as he can and when he reaches the stage door area, he scans every face this time, looking for her in between signing Playbills.
She isn’t there (again. It’s the third time, now, but he never fails to be disappointed).
-
The musical gets nominated eight times at the Tony Awards that year (he’s nominated once). They take home five (he takes home none. But he doesn’t mind - he knows he’s lucky for the nomination alone).
She watches from her flat a couple of blocks away, as the company walks up on stage, huge smiles and all looking like a million dollars. Her roommate asks her “Why do you care so much?” after Rachel tells her, sharply, to shut up so she can hear the speeches; for a second, she’s thrown by the question.
“I- I knew him,” she finally blurts out. This moment is two years in the making, and Rachel Berry finally cracks.
“What?”
“Jesse St. James. I dated him in high school.”
“You dated Jesse St. James? The guy we saw last month in a musical that just got five Tony Awards - which you never even mentioned, until now?”
Rachel sighs (she already regrets mentioning anything), glancing at the TV screen again, but the credits start rolling, signalling the end of the program. “It’s a long story.”
Her roommate gives her an incredulous look that’s more ‘I can’t believe you never told me’ than ‘I can’t believe you dated Jesse St. fucking James’. “Honey, right now, I am practically made of time.”
-
six.
Six years and several small productions and little roles later, Rachel Berry finally makes it in the real world. It’s a small role; nothing of her dream (an inevitability, something whispers in her mind that sounds so much like him), but she has to start somewhere. She’s 22; it gets her name into the business, and that’s how she ends up at an audition for a Broadway revival of Oklahoma!
She doesn’t get the part.
She ends up being the understudy.
Rachel briefly sees her name in lights when she becomes the lead whilst Ellie goes to a wedding. She takes the stage like she is born to (and maybe she always was). She loves the instant gratification that she gets from performing to an audience, she loves singing every day, and she loves becoming someone else. Some of the cast and crew look at her differently after, like she’s a different person than when she auditioned. She can’t figure out if that’s a good thing.
When Ellie comes back, she gives the role back, graciously.
(Giving back her dream role is like looking into the sun; when she looks away, she’s blinded by its brightness, an imprint of maybes and what could’ve beens on the inside of her eyelid)
-
He doesn’t live that far away from her, he realises. One day he even sees her walking into that coffee shop opposite his apartment block. It’s a complete shock; he drops the old Queen record he’s holding, and just stares outside his window where the swish of dark brown hair has disappeared through the door (she’s let it grown. He likes it).
A minute later, he’s just about mustered enough courage to ‘accidentally’ bump into her, when he sees Finn Hudson walk through the doors (this time he drops his phone onto the soft carpet).
Half an hour later, the two of them walk out. Her hand is slipped under his arm, and they’re laughing.
Laughing.
It takes him a second to realise he’s jealous. He knows he shouldn’t be; he doesn’t even know Rachel anymore. That week, he goes on his first date since he’s he first started his Broadway debut - a real date, with a restaurant and typical first-date flirting; the whole works. He picks her up at seven, and he smiles because she’s wearing a pretty dress, and they make easy conversation over the cheesy candlelit dinner. Her name is Melanie; she’s blonde, likes alternative music, and majors in psychology. She doesn’t know who he is, not really (she thinks she’s heard of him and definitely knows the musical he’s in, but New York is a big city, and she’s not part of that scene). Jesse thinks that maybe this is why he’s drawn to her.
It’s the first time he doesn’t compare her to Rachel, and it’s the first time since her that he falls in love (at some point, he stops looking out the window for the girl with the long brown hair).
It’s easy with Mel. She moulds to him; he doesn’t have to try so much. It’s easy (and maybe that’s the point). But though they spend time at each other’s apartments, they never move in with each other. They never breach the subject.
(Rachel meets up with Finn that day because he’s in town for a few days. They’re not together and she hasn’t had a serious boyfriend since college. Finn flirts with her, but not seriously - they’ve both moved on. Rachel’s still appreciative of his efforts.)
-
seven.
Just months into their run, some of the principals in Oklahoma! step down.
She auditions again, and the role of Laurey is given to her.
(Singing Don’t Cry For Me Argentina in front of a sold-out crowd isn’t a dream; it’s an inevitability.)
After the initial happiness calms down, there’s this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, that something is missing; she hasn’t felt this since she last talked to Finn. It’s small, though, and she brushes it away without a second thought.
-
It’s February, and Jesse ends it with Melanie when he realises he’s playing a role again. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he tells himself. He realises he’s not in love with her anymore; he loves her like he loves performing, like he loves singing, not like he loved (loves?) Rachel. Melanie’s smart. She’s felt it coming for a while now, but she’s held onto him until she finally feels him slip away.
There truly are no hard feelings between them; they’re still friends. No hearts are completely broken (but it still hurts like hell). When they stop seeing each other, they almost drop off each other’s radar completely (because New York is a big city remember, and she’s not part of that scene), but every now and then they’ll meet up at that coffee shop across from his apartment block, and it’ll be like they never broke up.
Melanie talks him through the decision to leave the musical he’s spent the last two and a half years with; ultimately it’s his decision, there will be other roles he’s offered, and he’s destined for even greater things (it’s in these moments that they become the closest; when they’ve made the decision to be friends and not lovers).
-
One day, they go to see Oklahoma! again, when he finds out there’s a new stunning young ingénue playing Laurey. When he sees her up on the stage, it’s like he’s eighteen again and foolish; she sings and he feels as if it’s only for him.
Melanie doesn’t ask him about it, just gives him a look that says so she’s the one.
-
Early in the morning one day, just when he realises he’s looking out the window again, like a year ago when he found out that Rachel frequented the café across from his apartment block, the woman in question walks into his view. She’s gone so quickly through the doors that he almost thinks that he imagined it. In fact, he’s almost convinced himself this as he pulls on jeans and the nearest t-shirt he can find, bolting down the stairs and across the road to psyche himself down and calmly walk through the doors.
“Could I get an iced coffee?” he manages to say, the order being the first thing that he can think of; he forces himself not to look for her. In forced composure, he hands over his money and gives his name to the cashier, stuffing the change back into his pocket. He still freezes when he hears a small voice from slightly behind him, and her voice is like the promise of something familiar that he hasn’t quite let go of-
“Jesse?”
He turns around, slowly, heart thumping loudly in his ears. “Rachel?”
“I-”
He stares at her, like he hasn’t seen her in Oklahoma! weeks ago. She’s taller, now, just a little bit (though in retrospect, maybe that was due to the dark ankle boots). She’s ditched the high waist skirts and animal sweaters for washed-out skinny jeans and a blazer, and he can’t say that it doesn’t suit her. But she has a flowery top underneath, and something about her lack of makeup, the way her hair falls below her shoulders, is very Rachel Berry.
He’s imagined this moment a thousand times over; in some versions, she’d scream and lash out at him, asking him why, and he’d try to tell her how he’s sorry, but she won’t give him the time of day and storm away from him. In other versions, they’d embrace like old friends and talk calmly at each other.
(It doesn’t prepare him for this.)
“Hi,” he says, momentarily lost for words.
“Um, ‘Jesse’?” The teenage cashier decides to interrupt at this point, saying something about his ready coffee, and adding an off-hand snarky remark not-quite under his breath, about ignorant Broadway stars and their choices of beverages. Jesse takes the drink with an amused smile; it’s a bit contradictory, that the teenager is familiar with musical theatre enough to recognise (and apparently dislike) actors on Broadway.
His smile fades slightly, as he turns back to Rachel. She’s still standing there, maybe a little in shock, and he gestures towards a table near the window, clear of other people. She follows him silently, and he’s actually not sure if he’d prefer she’d lash out at him or start yelling, rather than this calm, cold silence.
“Rachel Berry, it’s been a while,” he says with a smile and some of old St. James charm.
“Jesse,” she murmurs back, and he can’t help but love the way her mouth curls around his name, like-
He clears his throat. “Er, how have you been?”
“I’ve… It’s been good.”
She’s looking down at the paper cup, hands wrapped around it like she’s cold. He frowns at her unresponsiveness. “I saw you in Oklahoma! the other week. You were amazing.”
She finally looks up into his eyes, and she starts to smile (and damn if he doesn’t remember how beautiful she is when she smiles). “I saw you, too. A while ago. You were nominated for a Tony!”
He smiles back in relief. “Yeah, I was,” he says, careful not to sound too smug.
“In my opinion, Tommy Clayne didn’t deserve it. Maybe Jake Hussey, if not you, but definitely not Tom Clayne. I mean, I saw him about a month ago, and he wasn’t nearly as good as he’s hyped up to be. You,” she pauses, pink dusting her cheeks for the first time, as she realises she’s been rambling, “were much better.”
Something in him warms as she’s talking. “Thanks,” is all he can say. Then, “This is bizarre.”
She ducks her head, taking a sip of her drink.
He breathes out slowly, looking at her. “I missed you, Rachel Berry.”
Something in her eyes flickers, and the next thing he knows is she’s standing up, muttering an “I can’t do this” and flying out the door before he can say anything else. He’s left there, mind reeling from what just happened.
(The thing is, she’s not ready to talk to him, to open up what she thought she had closed seven years ago; she sees something in Jesse’s eyes that day, and it scares her.)
-
PART 2.