She walks down the hall, away from Finn. He's hurt her again. She wonders whether his concern is to mask his own guilt over this charade
he's playing with Quinn. As soon as she bursts through the bathroom door, the tears flood out and she gasps through the tears.
Finn isn't allowed to care who she dates anymore. Not anymore. Not when he started dating Quinn Fabray.
She's so very thirsty.
Her feet make the decision for her before she can truly register the path she's taking, the brown loafers making little sound on the linoleum.
Left, left, right, down the stairs, through the hall, and up the stairs up to the Auditorium. The audio-visual crew is doing something and she instructs them to judge her. It's obvious she's sad - she wouldn't expect people so unmusical to fully appreciate her resplendent voice.
She sits down, opening the sheet music and she lets the music flow.
It's better than crying, it's better than killing herself in front of a barre and it beats re-working her unfinished Finchel scrapbook.
The words tumble out of her and though it's not her song, she feels the pain and the retribution the lyrics will bring.
It will make her feel better, this song will make her feel better.
She repeats it, wishes it, longs for the closure from the pain.
She loves Finn so much. Everytime he smiles at Quinn or hugs her or kisses her or even sings with her.
(Their voices don't mesh as well as her's and Finn's; this brings her some comfort.)
And the song's thrum, it's mellow, deep connotations make her feel like there's someone else out there that feels the same. Someone else that is hurting in the way he is hurting. There's something universal and equivocally beautiful about sharing heartbreak with someone that was, in themselves, so very famous.
She feels thirsty.
His voice cuts through the air. Clear, crisp, beautiful.
As if it could hurt anymore.
She remembers the humiliation, the feeling of being so insignificant. She tries to look off-hand or unaffected but inside, the fact that Jesse is standing there looking so positively handsome hurts her more than she cares to admit.
He sings and she can't take it anymore. Sitting here letting him sing her song. With all it's connotations. Oh the irony!
She belts out the chorus and their voices meld. Perfect. They always were perfectly vocally matched.
She's momentarily dazzled by everything; his face, his hair, his smile, his voice.
Then she remembers how thirsty she is.
So very very thirsty.
She doesn't really remember the conversation with Jesse about going to prom together. She likes to block out unpleasant things from her mind. She wants to focus on the fact that she now has a date and despite the fact that it's the person that caused her to spend forty minutes shampooing her hair to try and get all the egg yolk out, she doesn't mind.
Because the look of jealousy on Finn's face is redemption.
Or it feels like that for a little while.
And then she remembers how thirsty she feels.
Her heart clenches when Figgins reveals who won Prom Queen.
Jesse is no where to be seen and she doesn't really care. Right now, all she can think about is Kurt.
His face turns one hundred colours and she wants to cry and try and clap for him to garner some sort of support.
She claps.. but the hall falls silent and she bites her lip.
She meets him outside, flushed and smiling.
"Thanks," She whispers, shyly.
He looks mildly confused.
"Thanks for taking me tonight. I had fun."
Jesse nods and takes her hand in his own.
"I'm serious about this business thing - I'd like to come and help me. Coach or something."
"Yeah. I'd like that."
She bites her lip and nods.
He tilts her chin up and looks at her sadly.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. I never should've-"
"No. Jesse. Please don't."
He pulls her into a hug and kisses her hair.
She smiles again.
"Thank you," She mumbles.
And just for a moment, she forgets she's thirsty.