.01. Somebody to Love

Will's POV

Guilt.

It's not something you can run away from with ease. You have to face it, put up with it without a fight. "You do the crime, you do the time" may be one of the truest statements I've ever heard.

I suffer through the regret that sits uneasily in the pit of my stomach every moment of every day. It takes all my strength to hide it from the Glee kids. They're all pretty suspicious of my incessant anxiety. I have to be careful, for one of them could very well sneak up on me and I could let it slip out unintentionally.

I trudged through the hall full of kids and made my way to the choir room. I was the first one there, which I had always been recently, and it was unusual; all the kids used to be there before I was. I set my bag down on the piano and pulled out the sheet music for the day. I held the pile and turned, only to be startled by Rachel Berry standing there. I gasped and took a step back, and then placed a hand on my racing heart when I realized it was just her.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, Mr. Schuester," Rachel said, "but I have to talk to you about something important, and quite personal at that. I'm going to need to make it quick, before anybody else gets here."

"What is it, Rachel?" I asked, reading over the sheet music once more.

"Well, I . . ." She hesitated and took a deep breath. "Actually, can I ask you a question first?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

She took a seat on the piano bench. "I don't mean to ask anything way too personal, but I'm curious about something . . ."

I leaned against the piano, put the paper down, and was suddenly more interested in what she was saying. I was even more curious now, as I wondered if what she was going to ask would be very personal. I waited for her to continue.

"What did it feel like when you heard that your . . . ex-wife . . . passed away?"

My heart sank. My stomach twisted up into a tight knot. I couldn't tell Rachel the truth — I couldn't tell anyone the truth. But I at least could tell Rachel how I felt at the moment it happened.

"I was . . . shocked," I replied honestly. "I didn't know what I would do. I left the town for a while—that's why you had a substitute for a few months—and I came back with remorse."

"Remorse about what?" she questioned.

I gulped. "About not paying more attention to her when she tried to communicate with me," I lied smoothly. "And, before the divorce, failing to love her as much as I should when I took the role of her husband. I regret not treating her with the utmost respect I used to treat someone else I had feelings for, someone that wasn't my wife, but I always secretly loved . . . and still do. But that's not my point. I should have cared for my wife more than I did."

"That's beautiful," Rachel whispered. "I'm sorry for your loss."

I nodded, turning away uncomfortably.

"And I'm sorry for asking you that question. I wanted to talk about . . ." She looked down at her feet. "Did you hear about what happened with Finn and Jesse St. James?"

"No." I looked at her. "What did happen?"

"All the boys from New Directions played a prank on Vocal Adrenaline by cutting the sleeves off all of Jesse's winning costumes," Rachel murmured. "He got mad and decided to get back at us. He stole Artie's guitar, Puck's guitar, and Finn's drumsticks. Then Jesse, along with the rest of Vocal Adrenaline, burned them. Finn and Puck got in a bad fight with Jesse at midnight last night out near the forest. It was two against one, so Jesse went overboard and pushed Finn out into the road. A truck ran him over."