Over His Head
Title: Over His Head
Paring: Jesse/Rachel (I know... I've succumbed to the darkness... )
Rating: PG
Summary: He'd never intended on this happening. He knew it was a cliche, and he was never one for trite sentimentalities but he couldn't deny it: he'd never meant to like her this much.
She is everything I need that I never knew I wanted…
He’d never intended on this happening.
He knew it was a cliché, and he never was one for trite clichés or sentimentality but he couldn’t deny it: he’d never meant to like her this much.
He’d known about the legend of Rachel Berry for a very long time - the town was only so small, there were only so many vocal teachers and on a number of occasions they had crossed one another’s paths. Performers in Lima were scarce and someone always knew someone else that you knew. So he had always been aware of her existence.
For the duration of high school, he became absorbed in the glitz of Vocal Adrenaline, became accustom to the sensation of the approving grins and the winks that he received as he walked through the corridor, and Rachel Berry slipped into the recesses of his mind, labelled unimportant where she nestled amongst rap music in general and his biology homework. In the grand scheme of things, Rachel Berry meant nothing to him.
But everything changed one day when Ms Corcoran slapped down a newspaper down in front of him.
‘Remember her?’ she questioned.
He’d shrugged noncommittally, but she remained unperturbed.
‘How important in taking Nationals to you?’
It was his senior year. His last chance. Of course it was important.
‘How far would you go?’
And suddenly he understood. He had shaken his head, his eyes wide, ‘No. No way, that’s crazy. How much of a threat can they really be to us? They barely even have enough people to qualify.’
His teacher had just rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest, ‘You were there at Sectionals.’
‘Her rendition of Don’t Rain On My Parade was…’
‘Perfect,’ she had sniped in return, ‘Pitch perfect, theatrically perfect. It was spot on. And exactly the kind of crap that the judges at Regionals will lap up.’
He remembered his fingers clenching the bench beneath him a little tighter.
‘You really think she’s that much of a threat?’
‘Jesse, they could win if they have her. But without…’
She had then shrugged, a distinctly disinterested look crossing her face, ‘It’s up to you Jesse. It depends on how much you want to win…’
And with that she had turned on her heel and walked away, a coy smile playing on her lips. She knew she had succeeded.
He devoted a few weeks to searching out Rachel Berry. He began on Facebook, scouring through her photos and statuses for any indication of what kind of girl he was up against. And he came up drawing blanks.
He began spending more time at the mall, only to discover Rachel Berry wasn’t normal, therefore Rachel Berry wasn’t the kind of girl to loiter at the mall.
When they finally did meet, it was actually, entirely by chance. He’d been searching for a solo to perform at an upcoming showcase, when he’d seen her slip through the door.
He saw her sifting through the racks, pressed onto the tips of her toes, her fingers barely grasping the bases of the books on the second highest shelf. An undefined urge made his fingers itch to reach out and help her grab the book.
Instead he ducked behind another set of shelves, watching from afar as she frowned, settling back on her heels and moving further down the store.
Finally, she settled on a Lionel Richie book, and propped herself up against the top of the shelf, studying it contentedly.
This was his chance.
He adjusted his shoulder and put on his acting face, settling on a face that his acting coach would have labelled “mildly surprised and approachable.”
He approached her, swooping the book from her hands, prepared to launch in a charming, suave speech.
Instead, he was struck speechless.
Her eyes were soft and dark, and they flickered from fear to defensiveness before finally settling between recognition and admiration. And somewhere in there he found something that simply… clicked.
And from that moment he knew he was screwed.
And then she stood before him a mere three days later, begging him to tell her the truth. When she said, ‘It’d be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me hold for the rest of our lives,’ he knew he was in way too far over his head. She was perceptive, more so than he had realized and he was left with two choices.
But then she looked up at him again, with those eyes that made his heart twist in ways he didn’t know it could, he tried to play it off. He re-introduced himself as Jesse and her wary eyes softened again. The next words slipped out of his mouth unbidden, ‘the guy who would never hurt you.’
He didn’t realize that he was telling her the truth.
What followed had been nothing short of perfect - a series of clichés that simply didn’t feel wrong. It had been dinner dates, clasped hands, a warm head resting in the crook of his neck, and soft languid kisses in the park. There had been singing, the perfect meshing of their voices and twirling around her room, the kind of giddiness that let laughter lift from his chest and made his head spin.
But it had all been in secret.
During the day, he practiced with his team and she practiced with hers. She practiced with a boy who wanted to be with her, and who deserved that right more than he did. She practiced with people who didn’t know, or even care to understand.
He practiced with people who were waiting - waiting for him to return with gossip, a juicy piece of information that would help them claw their way to the top. They waited for him to return from the kill.
But afterwards they always met again, out in the park on the swings, where he would walk toward her, his hands outstretched, reuniting them safely once more.
And then came the changing point.
It was one of those cool early spring evenings, and he was straight out of practice when he walked to the park. There she was, perched daintily on a swing, her head cocked thoughtfully, her cardigan pulled tightly around her small frame. A delicate smile curved at her lips as her eyes lighted on him and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.
She wrapped her slender arms around his waist, burying her head against his chest.
‘Hey…’ she breathed.
He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tightly, willing all the memories of the hungry eyes of his teammates out of his head. He wanted to be with just Rachel now.
Two months in and he was wondering whether he’d made the wrong choice, whether he’d done this the wrong way. A lie wasn’t the foundation for a relationship; it wasn’t healthy for something he was only just beginning he wanted to last forever.
He walked her home and conversation flowed easily between them. With him, Rachel was subdued, but thoughtful and incredibly insightful. She listened to him, liked to hear what he had to say and mull it over as if each word was gold to her. It made him feel important.
His stomach turned with guilt every time she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with complete faith in him. How could he have gotten in so far?
Finally they reached the corner of her street and Rachel pulled them to a halt. She turned around so she was standing before him, grasping both hands.
‘Jesse,’ she said quietly, her voice trembling, ‘There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s something I’ve never said to anyone else before…’
His heart leapt to his throat and he tried to maintain steady eye contact.
‘And… I know that we’ve only been going out two months Jesse, but, with you… everything feels different and I know you might think I’m crazy, but it’s true.’
She gulped in the cold air and her warm, soft, perfect eyes locked with him.
‘Jesse, I think that maybe, I’m in love with you.’
Her statement fell between them heavily, the weight of those words taking a few moments to sink in.
And despite everything, despite the guilt, despite the shame, despite everything his entire body tingled. She loved him. When it all broke down it was simple. She. Loved. Him.
Rachel was staring at him, wide eyed and horrified, looking scared and vulnerable and he didn’t have the heart to care about the promises he made to Ms Corcoran, or to his team mates. He had only enough heart to care about her.
He smiled, pulling her close to him, ‘Rachel… I love you too,’
A beam spread over her features and she looped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. And for a moment, everything was perfect.
But, it was only the calm before the storm.
Within two weeks of their perfect afternoon, Ms Corcoran was there harping for information.
‘It’s been two months Jesse, where is the information? Tell me something?’
He was at a loss for words; he didn’t know what to tell her.
‘Jesse? You’re not losing your nerve are you? This is your last competition; I thought this would mean something to you. I thought you were better than this…’
He stared at her helplessly, and thought of Rachel, who was sitting in her own practice, probably thinking of him.
He loved her, and he wanted it to last forever, but he needed to be realistic. He was leaving in just a few months, how much longer could this have lasted anyway?
He looked around at the expectant eyes of his teammates and drew in a deep breath.
‘Fine. I’ll tell you what you need…’
That night, floods of hateful rumours would flood over Facebook, and into the inboxes of hundreds of their friends phones and that would all be his fault. He would go home that night and turn up the stereo louder than usual as she left him voicemail after voicemail.
‘Jesse? What’s going on? Someone said…’
‘Jesse? Please call me, I don’t understand…’
‘Jesse? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me?’
Eventually, all would be left were his tears, as he curled under the covers, thinking of her, thinking of what he’d just done. He’d done the right thing for his team, but now, far too late, he knew it wasn’t the right thing for him. He had just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.
This wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
How did he let himself go, how did things get so far over his head?
This is going to bring me to my knees
I just want to hold you close to me
Paring: Jesse/Rachel (I know... I've succumbed to the darkness... )
Rating: PG
Summary: He'd never intended on this happening. He knew it was a cliche, and he was never one for trite sentimentalities but he couldn't deny it: he'd never meant to like her this much.
She is everything I need that I never knew I wanted…
He’d never intended on this happening.
He knew it was a cliché, and he never was one for trite clichés or sentimentality but he couldn’t deny it: he’d never meant to like her this much.
He’d known about the legend of Rachel Berry for a very long time - the town was only so small, there were only so many vocal teachers and on a number of occasions they had crossed one another’s paths. Performers in Lima were scarce and someone always knew someone else that you knew. So he had always been aware of her existence.
For the duration of high school, he became absorbed in the glitz of Vocal Adrenaline, became accustom to the sensation of the approving grins and the winks that he received as he walked through the corridor, and Rachel Berry slipped into the recesses of his mind, labelled unimportant where she nestled amongst rap music in general and his biology homework. In the grand scheme of things, Rachel Berry meant nothing to him.
But everything changed one day when Ms Corcoran slapped down a newspaper down in front of him.
‘Remember her?’ she questioned.
He’d shrugged noncommittally, but she remained unperturbed.
‘How important in taking Nationals to you?’
It was his senior year. His last chance. Of course it was important.
‘How far would you go?’
And suddenly he understood. He had shaken his head, his eyes wide, ‘No. No way, that’s crazy. How much of a threat can they really be to us? They barely even have enough people to qualify.’
His teacher had just rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest, ‘You were there at Sectionals.’
‘Her rendition of Don’t Rain On My Parade was…’
‘Perfect,’ she had sniped in return, ‘Pitch perfect, theatrically perfect. It was spot on. And exactly the kind of crap that the judges at Regionals will lap up.’
He remembered his fingers clenching the bench beneath him a little tighter.
‘You really think she’s that much of a threat?’
‘Jesse, they could win if they have her. But without…’
She had then shrugged, a distinctly disinterested look crossing her face, ‘It’s up to you Jesse. It depends on how much you want to win…’
And with that she had turned on her heel and walked away, a coy smile playing on her lips. She knew she had succeeded.
He devoted a few weeks to searching out Rachel Berry. He began on Facebook, scouring through her photos and statuses for any indication of what kind of girl he was up against. And he came up drawing blanks.
He began spending more time at the mall, only to discover Rachel Berry wasn’t normal, therefore Rachel Berry wasn’t the kind of girl to loiter at the mall.
When they finally did meet, it was actually, entirely by chance. He’d been searching for a solo to perform at an upcoming showcase, when he’d seen her slip through the door.
He saw her sifting through the racks, pressed onto the tips of her toes, her fingers barely grasping the bases of the books on the second highest shelf. An undefined urge made his fingers itch to reach out and help her grab the book.
Instead he ducked behind another set of shelves, watching from afar as she frowned, settling back on her heels and moving further down the store.
Finally, she settled on a Lionel Richie book, and propped herself up against the top of the shelf, studying it contentedly.
This was his chance.
He adjusted his shoulder and put on his acting face, settling on a face that his acting coach would have labelled “mildly surprised and approachable.”
He approached her, swooping the book from her hands, prepared to launch in a charming, suave speech.
Instead, he was struck speechless.
Her eyes were soft and dark, and they flickered from fear to defensiveness before finally settling between recognition and admiration. And somewhere in there he found something that simply… clicked.
And from that moment he knew he was screwed.
And then she stood before him a mere three days later, begging him to tell her the truth. When she said, ‘It’d be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me hold for the rest of our lives,’ he knew he was in way too far over his head. She was perceptive, more so than he had realized and he was left with two choices.
But then she looked up at him again, with those eyes that made his heart twist in ways he didn’t know it could, he tried to play it off. He re-introduced himself as Jesse and her wary eyes softened again. The next words slipped out of his mouth unbidden, ‘the guy who would never hurt you.’
He didn’t realize that he was telling her the truth.
What followed had been nothing short of perfect - a series of clichés that simply didn’t feel wrong. It had been dinner dates, clasped hands, a warm head resting in the crook of his neck, and soft languid kisses in the park. There had been singing, the perfect meshing of their voices and twirling around her room, the kind of giddiness that let laughter lift from his chest and made his head spin.
But it had all been in secret.
During the day, he practiced with his team and she practiced with hers. She practiced with a boy who wanted to be with her, and who deserved that right more than he did. She practiced with people who didn’t know, or even care to understand.
He practiced with people who were waiting - waiting for him to return with gossip, a juicy piece of information that would help them claw their way to the top. They waited for him to return from the kill.
But afterwards they always met again, out in the park on the swings, where he would walk toward her, his hands outstretched, reuniting them safely once more.
And then came the changing point.
It was one of those cool early spring evenings, and he was straight out of practice when he walked to the park. There she was, perched daintily on a swing, her head cocked thoughtfully, her cardigan pulled tightly around her small frame. A delicate smile curved at her lips as her eyes lighted on him and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.
She wrapped her slender arms around his waist, burying her head against his chest.
‘Hey…’ she breathed.
He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tightly, willing all the memories of the hungry eyes of his teammates out of his head. He wanted to be with just Rachel now.
Two months in and he was wondering whether he’d made the wrong choice, whether he’d done this the wrong way. A lie wasn’t the foundation for a relationship; it wasn’t healthy for something he was only just beginning he wanted to last forever.
He walked her home and conversation flowed easily between them. With him, Rachel was subdued, but thoughtful and incredibly insightful. She listened to him, liked to hear what he had to say and mull it over as if each word was gold to her. It made him feel important.
His stomach turned with guilt every time she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with complete faith in him. How could he have gotten in so far?
Finally they reached the corner of her street and Rachel pulled them to a halt. She turned around so she was standing before him, grasping both hands.
‘Jesse,’ she said quietly, her voice trembling, ‘There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s something I’ve never said to anyone else before…’
His heart leapt to his throat and he tried to maintain steady eye contact.
‘And… I know that we’ve only been going out two months Jesse, but, with you… everything feels different and I know you might think I’m crazy, but it’s true.’
She gulped in the cold air and her warm, soft, perfect eyes locked with him.
‘Jesse, I think that maybe, I’m in love with you.’
Her statement fell between them heavily, the weight of those words taking a few moments to sink in.
And despite everything, despite the guilt, despite the shame, despite everything his entire body tingled. She loved him. When it all broke down it was simple. She. Loved. Him.
Rachel was staring at him, wide eyed and horrified, looking scared and vulnerable and he didn’t have the heart to care about the promises he made to Ms Corcoran, or to his team mates. He had only enough heart to care about her.
He smiled, pulling her close to him, ‘Rachel… I love you too,’
A beam spread over her features and she looped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. And for a moment, everything was perfect.
But, it was only the calm before the storm.
Within two weeks of their perfect afternoon, Ms Corcoran was there harping for information.
‘It’s been two months Jesse, where is the information? Tell me something?’
He was at a loss for words; he didn’t know what to tell her.
‘Jesse? You’re not losing your nerve are you? This is your last competition; I thought this would mean something to you. I thought you were better than this…’
He stared at her helplessly, and thought of Rachel, who was sitting in her own practice, probably thinking of him.
He loved her, and he wanted it to last forever, but he needed to be realistic. He was leaving in just a few months, how much longer could this have lasted anyway?
He looked around at the expectant eyes of his teammates and drew in a deep breath.
‘Fine. I’ll tell you what you need…’
That night, floods of hateful rumours would flood over Facebook, and into the inboxes of hundreds of their friends phones and that would all be his fault. He would go home that night and turn up the stereo louder than usual as she left him voicemail after voicemail.
‘Jesse? What’s going on? Someone said…’
‘Jesse? Please call me, I don’t understand…’
‘Jesse? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me?’
Eventually, all would be left were his tears, as he curled under the covers, thinking of her, thinking of what he’d just done. He’d done the right thing for his team, but now, far too late, he knew it wasn’t the right thing for him. He had just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.
This wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
How did he let himself go, how did things get so far over his head?
This is going to bring me to my knees
I just want to hold you close to me