vi. you will bring beauty (from pain)

Rachel is ready to be done with high school.

She is ready to be done with sitting alone and not having friends and not seeing him.

She isn't sure yet how graduation will remedy the latter but if she is certain of one thing it's that.

She's been sleepwalking through her senior year and focusing on school work and she will be going to New York in just two months. Her dads cry when she comes out of her bedroom in her graduation cap and gown and she smiles to please them as they take picture after picture.

(She is starting to understand others' aversion to film.)

((She isn't sure she wants to remember this day.))

(((She isn't sure she could forget it, either.)))

She is Valedictorian and the yellow stripe across her shoulders feels like nothing but exclusion and loneliness and memories she'd rather forget.

Her speech is contrived and she knows it but her dads still tear in the audience and the faculty still looks at her as though her words are byproducts of their pedagogy.

(They're not.)

((She's learned the most from the one teacher not here today.))

(((She's learned the most from pain and error and shared mistakes.)))

There's applause and a fake smile and a diploma in her hand and then there's mingling and she just wants to go home. Her dads are laughing with Figgins and she leans against the bleachers, just wanting to be out of this town.

(The label on her suitcases is Julliard.)

((It doesn't quite feel like her end destination yet.))

(((She knows of the missing ingredient but isn't sure how to get it.)))

A hand on her shoulder is startling and when she turns her satin stole falls to the ground.

It's him.

(She's shocked.)

((But she's not, not really.))

(((She needs him and he's usually there when it really matters.)))

He's speaking in hushed tones and she thinks it doesn't make sense because she is eighteen and he isn't her teacher but she also kind of understands.

(They are meant to meet in private.)

((This is breaking all the rules.))

(((Her heart races.)))

She tells her dads she's going to a party and they are thrilled she's socializing again so they let her go.

She gets into his car and they drive away. She isn't sure where but she's always trusted him, even when he hasn't been quite deserving.

(She knew he'd figure it out after a while.)

((It was worth the wait.))

He's smiling lightly as she tells him about her plans at Julliard and it's the most they've said to each other since glee. It feels the same but different and somehow better.

(It feels like growth.)

They end up at his apartment and she feels butterflies in her stomach as if she's never been alone with him, never been in his apartment.

(She hasn't really.)

((Not like this.))

(((Not in a solo invitation.)))

His smile hasn't really left, small as it is, and she thinks it might be the best thing she's seen all year.

(She has a tendency to follow in his steps.)

((She also has a tendency to do it better than him.))

(((His happiness means her happiness and she wonders how great it can be if they do it together.)))

She smiles back at him, all teeth and big lips and he leans forward like he's going to kiss her, but instead he reaches his arms around her and slips the stole from her shoulders. He unzips her robe and drapes it over the back of the couch.

His eyes run over her short black summer dress and there's a mischievousness in his eyes she's never been the recipient of.

(A thrill runs up her spine.)

He leads her over to the couch and sits her down, his hand slowly letting go of hers as he walks into the kitchen. He seems hesitant but confident and just a little nervous.

(She thinks he's adorable.)

He asks if she wants something to drink and he comes back with the bottle of water she requested. She worries at the bottle in his until he winks and reveals it to be a bottle of old fashioned root beer.

Her resulting laugh is full of relief and the butterflies shift to her upper chest making it hard to breathe. He hesitates before he sits next to her on the couch and finally sits next to her when she offers a shy smile.

He's close to her now, inches away and she knows they've been much closer but never this cautious of touching so she figures it's her job to make this first move. She sets her hand on his and tells him it was a nice surprise to see him at graduation.

(She wants to thank him but it implies too much.)

((That he was there just for her.))

(((That she was happy he was there just for her.)))

He ducks his head and takes a drink of the root beer and she notices that he looks a little sad. He mumbles, "I've made a lot of mistakes, Rachel."

She realizes he's about to apologize for something so she offers, "Me, too," and the recitation of what's become his catch phrase gives him pause.

She sets her water down and his root beer down and they shift on the couch. She wants to explain that they both had a hard year, that they needed each other and that she was so grateful he was there to help and that he let her help him.

She doesn't say any of it but takes his hands in hers and leans forward. Her breath catches as he leans forward, but he doesn't kiss her.

Instead he pulls her to them and it is awkward, they are side by side like they'd been in the choir room but instead of darkness and backless benches and desperation they are surrounded by daylight and soft cushions and possibilities.

He tugs her closer and she slides into his lap, her legs resting against the couch seat as he wraps his arms around her waist under her breasts. He slides over until he is in the corner of the couch and she rests her head against her chest.

(She thinks that this is nice.)

((This is perfect.))

(((This is comfort.)))

The butterflies abate as they both just sit there, her head on his chest, his arms around her and his lips pressing against her hair. He shifts beneath her before he clears his throat and she turns to look at him. His eyes are red but he isn't crying.

(She can tell he might.)

((She might, too, depending on where this goes.))

She braces herself for the rejection she expected more than a year ago.

"This last year has been really hard on me. I haven't been…myself, and I haven't treated…other people the way they've deserved."

She knows he's talking about her but he's also talking about Finn and the rest of glee and Coach Beiste. Her eyes are getting teary but she holds her breath and lets him finish.

"I, uh, didn't deal with things in the best way and I was…I think I was depressed." She feels guilt for this immediately because she lost them Regionals and glee and she put her problems on top of his, even as she tried to return the favor.

"I needed a change. And," he clears his throat and he still isn't crying but he's getting closer. He pulls her closer to him and she takes that as a good sign. "I, uh, I needed you, and you helped me come back." He's stumbling through a few more words but she gets the gist, so she stops him with short sweet kisses to his lips.

(He wasn't pushing her away.)

((In fact, he was telling her that he cared about her in his own way.))

She turns into him and murmurs that he helped her, too, and he takes her face in his hands. He's kissing her in a cycle of them and it's comfort and reunion and reverie and romance and promise and love.

(It's commitment.)

((It's a future.))

(((It's them.)))

He doesn't break from her lips but locks his arm under her knees and pulls her up with him. He's moving with her effortlessly and he's bringing her into his bedroom.

She thinks it's strange they haven't done this in a bed yet but it also makes so much sense and she feels her knees tremble at the repercussions.

When he lays her down on the bed it's gentle and sweet but there's an edge of sharp want that shades their contact.

(It's always been there.)

((It's been a slow climb to acceptance.))

She smiles up at him and he brushes her hair from her forehead before his hand trails down her side to her bare legs and simple black heels. He pulls them from her feet and drops them to the ground as she tugs at his dress shirt. She is unbuttoning it and he is watching her, stroking her side, her arms, her hair.

She feels a little embarrassed and on display.

(More than that she feels appreciated.)

((She feels safe.))

(((She feels loved.)))

His shirt is open and he helps her pull it off and his t-shirt follows to her shoes on the floor. They're not rushing but they're not taking their time either, and the pants follow as does her dress. Her panties and bra are the last and she feels more open and vulnerable than ever so she starts to shift under his gaze.

They are both naked, physically and emotionally and she thinks this might be the type of emotion that she could write a song about.

(Funny, the thought of writing doesn't hurt anymore.)

((Something is building, shifting.))

(((She thinks it might be for him, too.)))

He is moving over her, pressing her into the bed and she realizes this is the first time she's felt his full weight on her.

(She realizes the weight of him isn't too much.)

((It actually feels more like an answer to a question she'd never been able to fully form.))

He strokes her hip and she shifts her legs to open for him and they smile at the simplicity of their actions. He watches her face and slides into her as her thighs lock around his hips. Her head tips back and his name is a sigh on her lips.

He freezes and she wonders if she said something wrong, but instead he kisses her again, with all the passion and promise and everything. These kisses are too heady, she feels drunk with it, and just when she thinks it's too much he moves to her neck and starts to move.

He is pacing himself, moving slowly but deeply and she's shifting to pull him deeper and the pressure is building.

(The pressure is new, too, as if the last five times have come back to spur her forward.)

((She thinks that when the pressure breaks, she might go with it.))

(((The thought doesn't bother her like it should.)))

He keeps kissing her neck her chest her arms and she keeps rolling her hips, drawing him back again and again until that pressure is reaching the end.

He's close, too, and his eyes fly open to watch her a moment before he captures her mouth once more and they both tumble over the edge, all the way to the bottom.

Their breathing is rapid and in sync and she thinks it might be the most soothing noise she's heard in a long time.

(She thinks it's safe to bet the same is true for him.)

When she wakes up he is under the covers and she slides out of bed silently, slipping on his shirt. She uses the bathroom and then goes into the living room. It's not quite seven and the sun isn't completely gone as she runs her hand over her graduation robe. She catches a computer glow in the corner of her eye and notices a map.

She feels bad for snooping but the map looks like New York so she glances at his bedroom before taking a seat in the chair and reading the map.

A route is highlighted from Lyndhurst to Union City and Will's voice is startling behind her. "I found a new job." He looks almost terrified at her answer to his non-question and he rushes on to say they can talk about it and that he doesn't want to go too fast but the only word she hears is possibility.

(A possibility for a new start.)

((A possibility for them.))

She doesn't want to rush in to this either, but she can't bear to walk away when she knows that there might be more here.

Juilliard is close to his future home and even closer to his future school and she thinks this might just be perfect.

She stands and kisses him, and he smiles against her lips.

(She thinks this might be karma for helping him.)

((She thinks he might be her karma for saving him.))

(((She hopes she is his karma for saving her.)))

They agree that this isn't a future but a chance at something more, and they both deserve to see where this might go.

(She thinks that decision is beyond their control.)

((She likes the thought.))

His lips find hers and she stands on her toes as his arms wrap around her. His fingers are in her hair and on her back and their kiss is comfort and reunion and reverie and romance and promise and love.

Their kiss is a possibility of something more.